


Stained Glass Shadow

by idanato



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Agarthan worldbuilding, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, DLC Abyss Spoilers, During the timeskip, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Game Spoilers, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Male My Unit | Byleth, Minor Character Death, Nabatean worldbuilding, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, character backstories, childhood flashbacks, demiromantic hubert, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 273,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato
Summary: Mercedes takes her fate out of the hands of the goddess and starts to put some faith in her own choices. Hubert investigates the Agarthans to figure out how to defeat them, only to get caught up in their grasps. An AU where: Jeralt was Wilhelm the First, Byleth wakes up early, and Edelgard isn’t the only one who’s one bad day away from going full-Hegemon.
Relationships: Mercedes von Martritz/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 759
Kudos: 260





	1. All out of firsts

There was one ball being held, but from Mercedes’ point of view on the fringes of it, there were really two. There was the main event in the center where all the nobles gathered in their finest garb and danced with each other. There was meaning to those dances, and every interaction was scrutinized. Dancing was not for fun, and it was like a chess board out there. Then, there was the other ball, the one happening on the edges with the commoners where the stakes were not so high. That was Mercedes’ ball.

She stood with the other members of her house - commoners and lesser nobility - who were not part of the Officer’s Academy. They had no crests, or they could not afford the exorbitant tuition charged to those without one to be part of that elite group. Often Mercedes didn’t feel part of it either. She was far older than most students. She was 23 and most of her classmates were in their teens. It was strange to watch them and sometimes feel like one of them, and then at other times to feel like some ancient voyeur. They were experiencing all their firsts here, but Mercedes’ firsts were all long past.

She had attended the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad when she was a teenager, and after that she’d gone into the Church despite her adoptive father’s wishes that she marry. It was there she had gotten tangled into a modest scandal of her own making. Mercedes had made the mistake of falling in love with a young man studying in the seminary. Unfortunately, he was already arranged to someone else. She knew this going in, but at twenty she had been sure their love would prevail. It did not.

To make her go away, his family paid off the Church which subsequently “discovered” that she had a crest. A special accommodation was made to send her to the Officer’s Academy, even though she was older than the new combat instructor they had just hired. Her father encouraged her to go; she wasn’t a virgin anymore and he wanted some time for that fact to cool down before trying to shop her around to more suitors. Perhaps she was no longer a pure bride, but at least she’d be an educated one when she graduated from Garreg Mach. Mercedes took the bribe and left her first love to his arranged life. Some would say it was cold, but Mercedes was a realist: he wasn’t going to marry her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

Now she was here, a Blue Lion from Adrestia and a commoner with a crest. An unusual young woman indeed. Part of her wanted to hold up her noble roots, she was a von Martritz, but they weren't a house anymore. She was also a von Bartels, but she didn’t want to talk about that. So she stayed towards the back of the ball and didn’t dare venture towards the forbidden center. She’d warned Ashe not to go in, but he was the adopted heir of House Gaspard, and so he’d gone because he thought he belonged. Now he looked a little lost up there but Mercedes couldn’t give her experiences to her classmates. They had to have them for themselves. He would learn tonight that it was incredibly difficult to straddle these two worlds without falling.

She watched as her noble friends continued to dance. Annette had a major crush on Felix and everyone seemed to know but him. She had lobbied hard for Mercedes to ask Sylvain to dance while she asked Felix, but Mercedes didn’t feel very comfortable doing that. Mercedes liked Sylvain just fine, but, he could be a little strange about women sometimes and it made her uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted or needed was Annie’s dream of the two double dating with Felix and Sylvain to come true. He was also the heir of his extremely important house, and Mercedes didn’t care for people whispering about _why_ she was dancing with him up there in the center of the floor. A dance was not allowed to just be dance when it came to nobles with other people watching. 

Mercedes had tried to get Annette to get Ingrid to dance with Sylvain instead, but Annette was too nervous to ask for Ingrid’s help. Ingrid had been engaged to Felix’s brother, she was best friends with the boys, and Annette was worried the other girl might be competition rather than a friend. Mercedes was pretty sure Ingrid only had eyes for her training lance and dinner, but it could be hard to fight the bubbling insecurities of a seventeen year old. Mercie didn’t fault Annie for it, this was just a part of growing up.

Mercedes and Annette were easy friends; they knew each other from the School of Sorcery, they liked similar things, and they got along wonderfully. In comparison Ingrid and Annette could not be more unalike. However, Mercedes secretly thought that those two had way more in common than Annie was willing to acknowledge: they were both from important families in Faerghus, they were the same age, and they were probably going to be around each other for the rest of their lives given their social circles. Mercedes subtly tried to push them together every chance she got in the hopes they'd become better friends. 

Mercedes' eyes wandered back to the people around her. Just because she wasn’t going to dance with Sylvain did not mean she didn’t want to dance at all. She looked at her options. The commoners' end of the ball was a little more populated with older students, though not nearly as old as her. There were a handful of others from the Officer’s Academy, and she knew them better than she knew the Blue Lions that weren’t part of the special school. The Golden Deer were well represented with Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael. The three were messing around with each other and being silly, and did not look very interested in dancing. Mercedes smiled at the good time they appeared to be having together. The only Black Eagle was Dorothea and she was watching the nobles with a keen contempt. Mercedes thought about asking her to dance, but Dorothea looked a little mad about the whole affair. Then there was one of her favorite classmates, Dedue.

Dedue had no crest and no noble standing. His tuition had been paid by Dimitri, but he did not dare go up and stand with his liege. He looked supremely uncomfortable at this event and Mercedes felt badly about that. Perhaps a dance was just the thing he needed to feel better.

“Would you like to dance Dedue?” asked Mercedes brightly as she looked up at him.

Dedue looked down at her and then quickly looked away, “It would not be fitting for you to dance with a man from Duscar.”

Mercedes frowned, _this again_. She pulled on his hand gently, “I don’t really care if I should or should not dance with a man from Duscar. I care that if you would like to dance you should get the chance.” Dedue stared at her hand and looked conflicted. Mercedes bit her lip, “I understand if you don’t wish to dance, but please don’t deny yourself just because of where you’re from—”

“I do not wish to dance,” said Dedue firmly. That she believed just fine.

“Oh, alright,” said Mercedes. “That’s fine! Dancing isn’t for everyone.”

A small smile crossed his lips, “Thank you Mercedes.”

Mercedes pulled on the ends of her shawl to distract herself from her boredom. She was still wearing her shawl over her formal dress because while the hall was warm the walk back to the dorms would be very cold. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice her comfort for her appearance like so many of her classmates. If it made her look a little matronly that was fine, she didn’t mind so much. The rest of her looked extra nice tonight to compensate. Her ash blond hair was tied back with a special accessory and she and Annie had done each other’s makeup. Annie had gifted her a nice pair of earrings that matched her blue eyes. It was too nice a gift in Mercedes’ opinion, but that was Annie’s way.

She watched as Annie stumbled through asking Felix to dance and smiled as he accepted. Well now Mercedes could leave because she wasn’t really needed anymore in case things ended in a crisis. Besides, it was not as if anyone was coming to ask her for a dance. 

Mercedes ducked outside. Truth be told, she was feeling slightly jaded over the dance. She wasn’t gripped with a crush like Annette, she wasn’t bound by duty to stay like Dedue, she wasn’t jealous but self-loathing like Dorothea, and so she left. 

The night was chilly and Mercedes was grateful for her shawl as she strolled outside into the empty night. She might not have had a partner, but that did not mean she could not dance. She hummed a tune and spun by herself in her own private world imagining a ball without an unspoken divide between nobles and commoners where anyone could dance with anyone they wanted. Mercedes was vaguely aware that she probably looked ridiculous to anyone who might accidentally glimpse her, but she didn't really mind. She found that as she got older she became less self-conscious about being who she was. That change was as freeing as a solo Ethereal Moon dance beneath a starry sky.

She was a little clumsy, she enjoying praying, she loved to bake, and people found this all very agreeable. She also loved a dark ghost story and scaring people, all in good fun of course, but people didn’t like that quite as much. She also knew she could get angry. People didn’t like anger, especially in a woman, and Mercedes had tried very hard to keep her anger to herself when she was young. She buried the bad feelings she had about the Bartels, she buried the loss of her brother, and she buried how she felt about crests and misery they caused. However, she was done suppressing her anger. She was done denying the feeling. It was part of her, and she wasn’t going to invalidate it anymore. When someone made her angry now she let them know. She was learning to use it on the battlefield.

Mercedes was lost in her own reverie, her own little ball for one, until she heard someone getting up from a shadowed bench. She froze as she stared at Hubert von Vestra caught in the act of trying to get away without being detected. He quickly bowed, “Sorry to interrupt.” He made to go back inside.

Mercedes didn’t know how to react. When she was younger, she might have been embarrassed to be caught doing something as silly as this. “Wait,” she called after him.

He paused and turned back to look at her, “Yes?” He was always polite, and always as cold as the winter winds coming down from Faerghus.

She extended her hand, “Do you want to dance?” She knew enough about him to know that he’d say no but she didn't have anything to lose by asking. 

Hubert stared at her. His resting face was a frown but everyone was used to that by now. “Very well,” he said as he stepped forward to take her hand.

“Oh,” said Mercedes in surprise as he began to step to the music leaking from the ballroom and out onto the balcony. It was muted and soft, but just loud enough to know it was a waltz.

“You’re good at dancing,” said Mercedes. He was better than her if she was being honest. His hand was pressing gently between her shoulder blades and he led with sharp precision.

“I was professionally trained,” said Hubert in his quiet voice. “Lady Edelgard needed a partner.”

“I’m surprised you’re not dancing with her now,” said Mercedes. She expected him to territorially guard his princess and fend off potential partners, but what she had seen inside was Edelgard politely dancing with almost anyone who approached her.

“It is not my place to ask for a dance with her,” said Hubert. “She is the imperial princess, I am her vassal, it would not be appropriate.”

“But you can dance with a commoner?” teased Mercedes as they moved.

“You asked, and it would be rude to refuse,” said Hubert with indifference. “Besides, I believe you are a Martritz and a Bartels, are you not? You are an Adrestian noble of sorts.”

She went by her true father’s family name, though she had never known him, and never by her awful step father's name. _Bartels_ , even thinking it sent a shiver down her spine. Mercedes cocked her head at him, “You sure know a lot about me.”

“I like to stay informed about those who surround Lady Edelgard,” said Hubert.

“Oh my, what else do you know about me?” Mercedes wasn’t exactly worried about her little scandal getting out, but one of the conditions of her bribe had been not talking about it.

Hubert spared her a neutral glance and inhaled, “Let me see, you like to spend a great deal of time in the cathedral, and shopping with your little friend you call Annie instead of Annette. You are teaching the prince to embroider, and he is not good at it. You are bad at seasoning food.”

Mercedes snorted, “What are you following me around?”

“These are just the things you do or speak of in public spaces,” he said carefully. They had reason class together, and Mercedes was sure she’d probably gossiped about all those things with Annie before class on a number of occasions. She’d never have thought Hubert was actually listening in on her idle chatter nor would she have expected him to remember such small trivial things.

“Do you like watching people,” she asked as he spun her, “Or do you just like watching me?”

He didn’t even falter at her teasing question, and his tone was unperturbed, “I watch everyone.” He paused and gave her a look that she found difficult to interpret, “Although, I suppose I enjoy watching you more than some of our other classmates.” Mercedes was exceptional at reading people but Hubert’s face was almost always in a static state of unfriendliness. His words ventured into the territory of flirtation, which surprised her, but everything about his body language, his facial expressions, and tenor screamed apathy towards her.

She supposed if he liked watching her more than others that was a compliment, or at least as close to one as Hubert was capable of. He had a reputation for being ice cold and intimidating, and it was clear he was not interested in making friends here. When they were in their reason lessons together he was reserved and polite but he didn’t speak much. Frankly, he was easy to ignore which was probably how he managed to see and hear so much. She suspected he preferred being overlooked.

“I didn’t think you were all that interested in other people,” said Mercedes. She assumed he was only interested in Edelgard.

Hubert’s face was unchanged though she felt how his hand relaxed on her back, “Getting to know people allows me to anticipate what they will do.”

“Always a tactician even off the battlefield,” smiled Mercedes. She could recall how he was the one directing the Black Eagles during the last mock battle in a futile attempt to get the class to actually support Edelgard rather than thwarting her efforts. They had failed spectacularly and the Blue Lions had taken the victory.

“The world is a battlefield,” he said quietly. “So the more I know about people and how they will act, the better.”

Mercedes decided for the first time to actually look at him in the way that he must study others. She had never been this close to him before, and she had never considered at his features beyond picking him out in a crowd to avoid him. He was tall, dark, and frowning; she supposed in that way he did stand out, the only other person who frowned as much was Felix. Even Dedue, with all his sorrows, managed to smile more.

Otherwise, Hubert was fairly generic in the landscape of the school. His hair was sort of in-between getting long like a nobleman’s, and being kept short like a noble boy’s. It marked him as older, and made him appear more mature than someone like Sylvain even though they were not that far apart in age. He was one of the tallest men in the Officer’s Academy, and it was amusing to see how he towered over Edelgard as he followed her around. That made him seem taller than he actually was, but up close Mercedes found she came up to his chin. He was broad shouldered and could handle a lance, but lacked the obvious strength of someone like Dedue or Raphael. He was big enough that one would not wish to cross him, but not so big that there was no hope of taking him down. He was perfectly suited to blending into the background and being ignored.

The song slowed to its end and they stopped stepping. She missed this closeness that came with being with another person. They stood motionless for a few extra moments until she heard him clear his throat as if to remind her the song was done. They looked at each other in silence and Mercedes figured tonight was a night of first dances and first kisses for most people; even she’d had all her firsts it didn’t mean she couldn’t have seconds or thirds. She wondered if he would find her at all unpredictable after this. 

Mercedes leaned up and kissed him. To her continuing surprise, he kissed her back. He wasn’t clumsy or too forceful like she expected, but restrained and seemingly practiced.

As she pulled back from it she could not help but grin, “Not your first time?” She wondered what sort of other things he’d done before and who he’d done them with. He wouldn’t ask Edelgard for a dance, and so it seemed incomprehensible that he would ask her for a kiss. No, there was — or had been — someone else that dared to be this close to him.

The corner of Hubert’s lip twitched up with amusement. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he paused as he stared at her. “I trust you won’t either.” It was a warning.

Mercedes just nodded and shivered as she looked up at a few stray flurries coming down. She was going back to her dorm and getting into her warmest night gown tonight and not stopping to tell anyone that she had kissed the least liked member of their class on a whim. Annie would be aghast at the thought of squandering something as special as a kiss, but Mercedes’ first love had taught her that kisses could be cheap and not mean very much at all. Ingrid, who constantly wasted time humoring her father’s requests that she meet with this suitor and that suitor, would be perplexed by the concept of kissing for pleasure. Both Annie and Ingrid were unquestioning in the idea that it was important to save intimate things for marriage, but Mercedes had already spent that illusionary currency.

Mercedes’ smile was easy, “Thanks for the dance. Maybe we should do this again sometime.”

Hubert’s face was as hard to read as ever, “I think not. Once you find out who I am, you will not like me very much.”

It wasn’t a question, it was statement, but she would only realize that when the Flame Emperor declared war upon the Church. However, that was still months away and in the meantime the thought of who he really was and if she might like him rolled around in the back of her imagination every time she saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to give a big thank you to people who have supported my writing so far on AO3 so far, the reception has been so much better than I ever imagined. 
> 
> I'm a multi-shipper (let's be real here, I'm a hubert/literally anything shipper), and I like rare pairs as a way to explore aspects of characters that aren't always highlighted. I like filling in plot gaps and backstories, and that's what I intend to do with this long fic. Thanks for stopping by.


	2. Faith and Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes wants to try out dark magic in reason class but Lysithea and Hubert are little help. The Blue Lion ladies blow off steam at the sauna. 
> 
> Alternative title: Kittens and Mittens!

Each house professor chose two subjects for their students to focus on. Hanneman decided that Mercedes was a natural fit for gremory and put her into faith and reason. She wouldn’t have minded taking up a bow, but she was better at magic. She spent her mornings in Manuela’s faith seminar, and her afternoons in Hanneman’s lecture. Annie was taking reason too, and amazingly axes because of her family’s relic. Annie was doing well in reason, but complained all the time about her hours logged at the training grounds.

“Everyone’s so much better with their axes than me,” fretted Annette as she looked at her grade. Alois had given her a D and Annette was freaking out.

“Well you can’t compare yourself to Dedue,” said Mercedes. “And Edelgard is deceptively strong.”

“Yeah but Hilda is super lazy and even she has a B!”

“Ask Caspar for help, he’s so nice I’m sure he’ll say yes,” said Mercedes as she cracked open her textbook.

Annie put her head on the desk and groaned, “Stupid family relic.” Mercedes’ family relic was long lost to history, and who knew who even had it.

Mercedes pursed her lips as she looked over the spells they were working on this week, wind spells, well at least Annie would enjoy that. Mercedes preferred fire spells. She glanced up as the other students arrived from their lunch break. Marianne and Lorenz took their seats together as Lorenz dominated the conversation as always. Dorothea and Linhardt took a table together and chatted pleasantly. Hubert joined Lysithea. Those two had their table in the front row and goddess help anyone else who dare tried to sit there. They didn’t even talk to each other and Mercedes suspected they’d each prefer to sit alone.

They did dark magic, and were the only ones in the school that used it. Mercedes had tried Miasma once and failed, though she didn’t quite understand why she found it so tough when faith and black magic came so easily to her. She wasn’t a perfectionist like Annie but she was curious what exactly she was doing wrong. She’d asked Hanneman for help, but he really only knew the theory behind it and didn’t practice it. She wondered if either Lysithea or Hubert would be willing to help her figure it out.

“Alright, match up with a partner and practice in the courtyard,” said Hanneman pleasantly as he finished up his diagram on the chalk board.

Mercedes realized she had missed the entire lesson while imagining Lysithea teaching her the ways of Dark Spikes. She bit her lip and looked at her empty notebook page. She glanced over and saw Annie’s was packed. At least she could count on her friend to share her notes.

Mercedes quickly shut her shameful notebook. “Do you mind if I ask someone else to be my partner today?”

Annie looked up in shock, “You don’t want to be partners?”

“Oh! No, I just wanted to get some help on a specific spell,” said Mercedes. “I was thinking of asking Lysithea—”

“No! Then I’d have to be Hubert’s partner,” whispered Annette as she looked at the two angry students. They had not exchanged a single word but were clearly preparing to practice with each other.

“Dorothea would trade you if you asked I’m sure,” offered Mercedes. Dorothea was the only person in class that Hubert tolerated calling him Hubie, and she was the only person other than Lysithea he ever worked with. Annie was giving Mercedes a mournful look. Mercedes chewed her lip and tried to think of something that would pep Annie up, “I’ll, um, I’ll do the double date you want.”

“Oh, well, alright then,” said Annie with sudden enthusiasm for the idea. Mercedes quickly looped on her scarf and the matching mittens she’d made herself and prepared to practice outside. She’d gotten a great deal on some pale pink yarn and had found a cute pair of earmuffs in the market that made life much better in this Guardian Moon cold. The other Blue Lion students always laughed about how chilly she got compared to them, but she couldn’t help it that her childhood had been spent in Adrestia’s warmth.

She approached Lysithea with a smile, “Would you like to be partners today? I was hoping to get your help with Miasma—”

“I don’t have time to help you stumble through Miasma,” said Lysithea flatly. She folded her arms and looked Mercedes up and down, with her eyes lingering damningly upon the girlish mittens and fluffy white ear muffs, “You’re never going to get it, don’t even bother.”

Mercedes tried not to let her hurt show at the comment. “Maybe I could trade you with help on faith spells?”

Lysithea scoffed, “I’m doing just fine in faith.”

Mercedes wasn’t used to frowning this much, and it made her mouth feel funny. She looked at Hubert, “Would you be willing to do that kind of trade?”

“I am not interested in faith spells,” said Hubert. He was on reason and lances. Hubert finished putting on his scarf, an expensive looking wool one in a rich Adrestian crimson color, and looked at the door as if this conversation were a waste of time. Mercedes suddenly felt a little shabby in her homespun accessories. She had thought uniforms might be a good thing for lessing the gap between commoners and nobles, but the rich students at Garreg Mach still managed to show off their wealth, consciously or not.

Mercedes would not give up so easily. “Shouldn’t you know one faith spell just in case Edelgard needs your help on the battlefield?”

Hubert looked like he wanted to quip “No”, but she had really gotten him there. Using Edelgard was a cheap ploy but it clearly worked. “Very well,” he said as he gestured to the door.

Lysithea gave Annette a sharp look as she threw on her knit hat and her big bulky coat, “Okay, come on partner.” Annie gulped and gave Mercie a look of panic as Lysithea drug her outside. Mercie didn’t have much sympathy because she had just roped herself into both a double date with Sylvain _and_ teaching Hubert faith magic. That had to be some sort of record for poor luck.

They got out into the courtyard and stared at each other, both apparently uncertain of how to begin. Hubert had his hands sunk into his deep pockets, no doubt to keep them warm. He had to have the biggest pants in the Officer’s Academy, and Mercedes giggled softly as she remembered Sylvain suggesting it was because Hubert was attempting to hide his ridiculously skinny legs. He looked extremely unamused by her laughter, “Why do you wish to learn Miasma?”

“Well, it’s the most basic dark magic spell and I figured it was a good place to start,” said Mercedes as she played with the end of her ponytail.

Hubert was staring at her. His face was apathetic at best, “Think of the worst thing that has ever happened to you.”

“Excuse me?” Mercedes dropped her hands in surprise at the order as flashes of the Bartels estate intruded into her mind.

Hubert clasped his hands behind his back and stood at attention, “Magic strengths come down to personality. How you deal with adversity signals what kind of magic you are most suited for.”

“I don’t think I understand,” said Mercedes.

He looked at her passively. “What do you wish to do to someone who has hurt you?”

Mercedes didn’t hesitate as she thought about how she felt fighting enemies during their monthly missions, “Um, well, if they’re no longer a threat I suppose I would try to heal them.”

Hubert looked unamused by her response, “And that is why you are good at faith magic and cannot bring yourself to do dark magic.”

Mercedes didn’t believe that explanation. “Oh really, and what do you wish to do to those that have wronged you?”

“Hurt them, hurt them worse than they have hurt me,” whispered Hubert as he continued to stare at her.

Mercedes frowned at the sentiment and folded her arms. “And what about Black magic then? If I’m so forgiving why am I so good with that?”

“Black, or anima, magic is innate. It’s elements, wind, fire, thunder. Anyone who can do magic seems to be able to get down a basic black magic spell,” his voice was twinged with a hint of contempt.

“So you like hurting people?” Her forehead hurt she was furrowing her brow so hard.

“I did not say I liked it,” said Hubert. “I merely suggested that is my nature.” He sighed and held out a gloved hand, “Unfortunately however, it makes me useless with faith spells.” If he was attempting to do one, nothing happened. Mercedes found herself frowning more around Hubert than she usually did in a week.

Mercedes took a seat on the grass. The ground was unpleasant and dry but she was sick of standing while wind chilled her legs. Hubert stared down at her in confusion as she patted the patch of dead grass beside her. He awkwardly sat across from her. Mercedes took a breath to clear her head, and shut her eyes. “When I do faith magic, I like to think of a person who makes me happy.”

She brought her hands up to cast and Hubert scoffed softly. “You’re going to cast in mittens?”

Mercedes resisted the urge to stick out her tongue as she undid the special cover that pulled back her mittens to reveal knit fingers. She carefully buttoned the top of the mitten back and smiled. Hubert’s eyebrow rose as he looked at them, “Clever.”

“I made them myself,” said Mercedes. She couldn’t help but sound proud over how well they had turned out. She took a deep breath and pursed her lips as she pictured Annie. A nice little faith magic circle illuminated in her hands and helped make them warm. She looked at Hubert and smiled, “So think of someone who makes you happy and warm inside.”

Hubert stared at his hands, “What if no one makes me happy?” Mercedes giggled and he looked up at her with the barest hint of a sneer on his lips, “I was being serious.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes. She could never tell when he was being sarcastic and when he was being serious. “Um, not even Edelgard?” He said nothing and Mercedes chewed her lip, “Maybe think about kittens?”

“Why would that make me happy?” He seemed genuinely confused by the suggestion.

Mercedes balked, “Baby animals make everyone happy!” Seeing adorable kittens around the monastery was always a highlight of Mercedes’ day. She might even have had a box of them illegally hidden beneath her bed at the moment but it was too cold out for strays! She had named them all and was presently sneaking milk out of the dining hall at every meal for them.

“Pets are a big responsibility,” said Hubert. “People think getting a little kitten is cute, until it needs something or grows up and then don’t want it around anymore.”

He was impossible. Mercedes stretched and sighed, “Really, nothing makes you happy?”

“Coffee makes me happy,” muttered Hubert.

Mercedes squinted at his thin white gloves, “I think I see a flicker.” If it was there, it was just barely a spark. “Hubert I think you need to find something that makes you happier than coffee.”

Hubert looked like he didn’t share that opinion as he shook out his hands, “Your turn.”

“What?”

“Think of someone you want to punish,” said Hubert as he launched into his dark magic lesson.

She was going to get permanent frown lines if she spent anymore time around him. “Um, I don’t want to punish anyone.” Who would she punish? Her first step-father? He was dead and couldn’t hurt her anymore. Perhaps she wasn’t going to get the hang of dark magic after all, though she was loathe to see Lysithea proved right.

“Mercedes, I do not believe you are suited for dark magic, but I do not think that is a problem to fix. Black magic is perfectly adequate for your needs on the battlefield,” said Hubert as he stared at her mittens. He glanced towards Hanneman making his rounds, “We should attempt to do the assignment.”

“Oh, right,” murmured Mercedes. She had daydreamed through the whole lesson. “What spell are we working on again?”

Hubert stifled a chuckle as he helped her to her feet, “Cutting gale.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” muttered Hubert.

Mercedes was about to tell him he wasn’t very nice, which she suspected he already knew, when she spied Hanneman coming up behind her. Mercedes wiggled her fingers and made a half hearted gust of wind blow as the professor passed them by. “I don’t appreciate being laughed at,” she added when Hanneman had gotten out of earshot. She could feel her lips hitting a pout, but she couldn’t help it.

Hubert smirked at her. She was sure she had never seen him truly smile, but he smirked all the time. “If you don’t enjoy being laughed at, you should attempt to be less silly.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes and decided she would never ask to be Hubert’s partner in class again.

***

“And then she got mad at me because I complimented her crest,” complained Annie as she sank into the bath. She was speaking in a high pitched whisper so they wouldn’t be overheard gossiping about Lysithea in the sauna. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“Hubert called me silly,” said Mercedes as she carefully shaved one leg. The other leg sank down into the bath, awaiting its treatment. She knew it was a little frivolous but she liked grooming and felt best when she looked her best. Annie was the same way and they traded beauty tips all the time.

Ingrid threw off her towel revealing her super hairy legs as she walked down into the bath. “Hubert thinks everyone other than Edelgard is silly, but you should see him with a lance. Now that’s a good laugh.”

Mercedes focused on not nicking herself as she worked on her ankle. Hubert with a lance was an intriguing mental image although she couldn’t imagine him looking like Dimitri accidentally snapping his or Sylvain who liked stand with his lance across the back of his shoulders and his arms draped wide across it like he was hauling water from a well. She was pretty sure he stood like that to show off his strong arms, but she wasn’t sure who he thought was looking. Mercedes imagined that Hubert probably stood at sharp and painful attention with his lance in one hand and the other in a fist behind his back.

Mercedes looked up as Dorothea and Petra came into the bathing area. Dorothea was always so loud, regardless of who she was talking about, “So then I called him a bee and told him to buzz off.”

“I am still not understanding why you are calling him a bee,” said Petra, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Is that what they call an idiom?”

“Nah, he is what they are calling an idiot,” laughed Dorothea as she took off and folded her towel. She stepped lightly into the bath adjacent to the Blue Lion ladies. “Evening Ingrid, Mercie, Annie. How are you tonight?”

“Sore,” said Ingrid. She had her eyes closed and her head leaned back. In the time Mercedes and Annie did a thorough grooming, Ingrid was usually fully committed to only relaxing. Everyone had their own preference for unwinding after a long day of classes.

“Do you need a massage?” teased Dorothea as she rested her face on her arms and stared their way.

“No thank you Dorothea,” said Ingrid with a yawn. Mercedes snorted; Dorothea was always flirting with Ingrid, who might as well have been a stone wall when it came to romantic attention. Annie had grown quiet as she focused on scrubbing her nails. Mercedes started up on her other leg.

“I wished my skin looked as smooth as yours,” said Annette as she washed her hair.

Mercedes frowned, “Annie, your skin looks fine.” Mercedes suspected that she wasn’t doing anything magical to avoid getting pimples. She had definitely had more than a few at Annie’s age and it always seemed like nothing she did to avoid them worked, but with age they had largely faded away. Annie was presently fretting over one that had decided to painfully erupt on her chin. At the very least the double date would be postponed until it went away.

“But I’ve got all these freckles,” she complained. “A freckle there, a freckle here, I just wish my skin was clear,” she jokingly sang in a quiet voice. Mercedes wished that when she told Annie she was adorable, Annie would just believe her. However, Annette never seemed to believe herself good enough no matter how much she shined.

“I like your freckles,” announced Mercedes as she booped Annie on the nose. She dropped her voice low, “Maybe Felix does too.”

Annie turned red at the suggestion and splashed her, “Mercie! Shut up!”

Mercedes giggled as she finished up shaving her legs and took off her towel. She folded it neatly and placed it on the ledge and double checked to make sure her hair was tied up securely so it would not get wet. She accidentally made brief eye contact with Dorothea, who had the audacity to wink and blow her a kiss. Mercedes blushed in amusement and stepped down into the bath. Dorothea and Petra began talking about their sword training, as loudly as ever, and Mercedes sighed at the way Annie strained to listen to see if she could overhear anything about Felix.

Annie had it bad. Mercedes didn’t envy her and yet wished she felt so strongly about someone at this school. She had definitely mooned over her first love, and what a fool she must have appeared while she pined away for him from a distance. She didn’t feel that way towards anyone at Garreg Mach. She shut her eyes and imagined who she would sleep with, hypothetically of course, and the answers all came back _mature_.

Mercedes pictured herself praying in the cathedral, prim and proper, and Seteth coming up behind her. Stern and strict Seteth would complement her devotion and then bend her over the alter. A small smile crossed her lips at the absurdity of it, and yet she was probably going to go back to her room tonight and play that thought out to completion.

“Mercie, Mercie,” Dorothea had her arms folded over the side of the bath as she rested her chin on them. She was staring with a flirtatious gaze that made Mercedes feel exposed. “Who are you thinking about right now?”

Mercedes flushed wondering if her facial expressions were truly that transparent. She glanced over with a teasing smile and decided to try the truth, “Seteth.”

Dorothea cackled so hard she snorted. “You’re hilarious, see you in reason tomorrow.” She got up to leave while Petra floated in the middle of the bath with her eyes closed as if she were in the ocean.

Mercedes waved her off. _Hilarious_. That was better than silly she supposed. Annie wasn’t laughing, “Ew really?”

Mercedes looked at her dubiously and smirked, “No, of course not Annie!” She paused and tried not to laugh, “I was thinking about Hanneman.”

“Oh my goddess,” gasped Annie in a giggling surprise. Mercedes declined to tell her that she had really thought of Hanneman a couple of times in that way. He was pretty handsome but she couldn’t imagine what they would talk about other than homework. It wasn’t exactly inspiring fantasy fodder. Sadly more often she fantasized he was her father instead. Her adoptive father cared for her, but he was focused on planning for her future; Mercedes was fine discovering the path the Goddess had for her as it revealed itself. 

Ingrid was laughing now too as she deepened her voice and did her best imitation of Hanneman, “Come to my office to discuss improving your grade Ms. von Martritz.”

Mercedes wiped tears from her eyes she was laughing so hard at Ingrid’s continuing impression as all the Golden Deer girls came in. “What’s so funny ladies?” Hilda hated being left out of the loop but hated working on staying in it.

“Mercedes being hot for teacher,” said Ingrid sarcastically as she finished up her bath and got out.

“Well who doesn’t love the professor?” Hilda winked with approval.

“Wrong professor,” smiled Ingrid without any further elaboration as she pulled on her towel.

Mercedes blushed and got out too, “It was just a joke I swear.” The last thing she needed was a serious rumor going around that she wanted to have sex with the faculty. Imagining was enough for her. Even though she missed being with someone, she had learned the hard way that loving someone was a risk and no one had made themselves seem worth the potential hurt here at Garreg Mach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love the image of Mercedes in a bunch of pastels asking to learn dark magic. 
> 
> Lysithea and Hubert is my favorite non canon friend-ship. Imagine them silently eating together in the dining hall, scowling. Lysithea takes Hubert's dessert and he takes her vegetables. *B support unlocked*


	3. Prepare for Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes and Annie join Sylvain and Felix for a double date at a popular student hangout where they run into an unlikely couple.  
> Hubert reflects on pets and happiness as he prepares to go meet with his father.

The double date had finally arrived. Mercedes and Annie walked through the village window shopping to calm Annie’s nerves as they waited for 3 o’clock to hit. They were heading to the place in town that was a popular student hangout because it was the only place where students could buy alcohol in the evenings. However, right now it was still afternoon tea and the place was barely occupied because it was so cold outside. Pegasus Moon had arrived with a blizzard leaving Garreg Mach and the surrounding village blanketed in snow.

It was their day off so at least Mercedes could wear what she wanted. The dress code at Garreg Mach was reasonably varied although it was not what Mercedes would necessarily choose to wear. She decided to stick with the conservative white shirt and long skirt option, and she wore a shaw to hide the fact that her shirt buttons pulled over her breasts and gaped. It was frustrating, but it looked better on her than the standard gold and black jacket that Annie and Ingrid wore. Mercedes had tried one on and couldn’t even close it over her chest, but she wasn’t like Dorothea who had a just abandoned hope and let her cleavage out.

Today instead of her uniform Annie was wearing a smart teal dress that complimented her hair and brought out the color of her eyes. The two young women had spent all of Friday evening going through Annie’s closet trying to pick out the perfect outfit. Mercedes hadn’t put nearly as much thought into what she was wearing. She had on a long dark plaid wool skirt that kept her legs super warm, and a lovely blue sweater she had knit with the some yarn that matched her eyes. She looked like a school teacher in the country, but that was fine. It hardly mattered given her massive coat that wrapped her from shin to neck in warmth.

Felix and Sylvain had already grabbed a booth and ordered tea for the table when the two women got to the place. Felix, to his credit, appeared to have brushed his hair. He was dressed in a well made cable knit sweater that made Mercedes suddenly feel a little self conscious of her wavy neckline and the couple places where she’d made mistakes in her own pullover.

Sylvain actually cleaned up really well. He was in nicely tailored pants and a tight black shirt that showed off his muscles. It was deliberately unbuttoned at the top. Mercedes wondered if he had another date to run off to after this or if this was for her.

“Ladies,” said Sylvain seductively as a means of greeting. Well at he looked nice even he was still acting like a shameless flirt. It was like at times he forgot how to talk to women without hitting on them. Sometimes though, she thought she saw glimmers of the real him, a deeply mistrustful cynic being crushed by the weight of his crest, hiding beneath his easy-going bravado. That was the Sylvain she wanted to know, and also the Sylvain that was so hard to coax out.

Felix awkwardly got up even though there was no chair to pull out as he and Annie danced around each other uncertainly. They took their seats while Sylvain tried not to laugh at how nervous they were. It was charming how they were acting around each other, both were clearly trying to impress the other while teetering on the brink of embarrassment.

Sylvain leaned in to look at Annie, “Did I ever tell you the story about how Felix got his head stuck in a fence?”

Felix turned bright red. Mercedes wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him blush so hard as he glared at Sylvain, “You always tell it wrong—”

Sylvain ignored Felix’s protests as he launched into a charming story of their shared childhood. Mercedes mostly listened and laughed as she tried to picture them so small. Sylvain had a ton of stories, most of which ended with Felix in some comical situation courtesy of his own hubris.

Eventually Mercedes excused herself to go to visit the powder room to apply some lipstick and stretch her legs when a conversation in a booth on the emptier side of the pub caught her attention. She glanced over and saw Hubert sitting with someone unseen. Hubert was staring at his coffee mug and looking uncharacteristically emotional. It was hard to pin down what exactly he was feeling though. It could have been anger or sadness, or perhaps a dash of both, but he certainly wasn’t smiling.

Mercedes found herself ducking down to eavesdrop. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she was dying to know who was able to actually stir up some feeling in Hubert. Perhaps this was his secret kissing partner. Regardless, it was more interesting than listening to Sylvain regaling them with yet another childhood story about him and the other Blue Lions.

Hubert’s voice was sharp and judgmental, “You weren’t there—”

Mercedes was surprised to hear Hanneman respond, “No, I wasn’t in the throne room, I did not see what you were forced to see. However, I was in the city Hubert, and I saw quite a few things. I saw colleagues, _friends_ , barricading themselves in buildings and crafting weapons from whatever was around them. I saw some of those same people die in the street, and their bodies stayed there for days because there was no way to clear them. Enbarr was dying, and the Insurrection saved it.” Hanneman could be heard stirring his tea with a spoon and setting it down on his saucer. The soft clinks of the metal against porcelain punctuated the grim silence between the two men. “I know you and your father have a tenuous relationship but I urge you to reconsider this.”

“Tenuous. That’s one word for it,” Hubert’s judgmental tone had given way to his usual apathy.

“He has tried to do right by you, you cannot deny that,” said Hanneman. “Did you ever consider maybe he was protecting you by allying himself with the likes of Arundel and Aegir? You’re a sharp boy, you know what would have become of the Vestras if he hadn’t.”

Mercedes knew she was lingering too long. Someone was going to come look for her if she didn’t get up soon. She felt guilty; she shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this private conversation. That wasn’t nice.

Hubert was silent, and Hanneman sighed. “I respected your grandfather immensely, everyone did, but I also respect your father for breaking rank and helping to end the uprising. There’s no way he could have predicted what Aegir was going to do with the children—”

Sylvain had come to find her, oblivious to the tantalizing conversation, and looked down at her sitting on the ground with an easy grin, “There you are. We were worried you got lost.” He pulled her up and her eyes dared to glance over at the booth.

Hubert was staring at her. His face was flush; it was not the soft pink of an effusive blush but the sharp red of rage. It made his one visible eye seem extra green as he gave her a hard glare. Hanneman had swung around to look at them, “Ah, Mercedes, Sylvain, how are you enjoying your afternoon?”

“Hello Professor Essar,” said Mercedes with a smile. “We’re just here with Annie and Felix, just trying to enjoy some tea.”

Hanneman glanced back at Hubert, whose gaze had averted to the window. Hanneman turned back, “That sounds lovely. Well, good to see you.” It was a not-subtle ‘please leave’ though Hanneman did not look nearly as shaken up by the conversation as Hubert.

Mercedes felt super guilty as she waved goodbye and followed Sylvain back to the booth. “Were you just spying on Hanneman and Hubert?”

“Um, no, I dropped my lipstick and was looking for it on the ground,” lied Mercedes in a panic.

He stared at her unstained lips, “I take it you didn’t find it.”

“No, it rolled away, it’s probably gone forever,” said Mercedes wistfully. He probably thought she was impossibly clumsy.

“Well you’re in luck, I almost always have one on me,” said Sylvain as he produced a lipstick from his pocket.

Mercedes shrugged, when life gave one free make up one should take it because lipstick wasn’t cheap. She opened up the gently used lipstick that came in deep shade of red and eyed Sylvain, “Why do you have this?”

“Girls leave them in my room all the time,” he said as they got back to their seats. Mercedes relaxed because that was a comment one said to a friend and definitely not a date. Now she could actually enjoy herself knowing Sylvain wasn’t going to get weird about crests and inheritances later.

Mercedes slid back into her seat, “Sorry! Where were we?”

“I have to tell you about the time Dimitri gave his crush a dagger,” said Sylvain as he launched into a rather comical story about Dimitri’s childhood romantic foibles.

When he was finished he looked at Mercedes. “Did you ever do anything like that as a kid?” Sylvain’s question was innocent, but filled Mercedes with a quiet pain.

“Um, no,” said Mercedes as she thought about her time spent in the estate of Baron von Bartels. It had not involved any cute romances, laughter, or stories worth mentioning. She focused on her tea and hoped Annie or Felix would take over the conversation. It was easier to listen than to share especially on the topic of growing up.

Hanneman and Hubert were now leaving, but not before Hanneman stopped at the table of his students to chat. Mercedes’ eyes drifted to Hubert hanging awkwardly behind Hanneman. He appeared torn between wanting to leave and not wanting to appear rude by interrupting to say his goodbye. His face no longer looked as emotional as it had in the privacy of the booth but she could see the change in his posture. He was usually so erect and attentive, but presently he seemed subdued. She knew the look in his eyes because she had it in her own so often; his mind was in another time and place entirely.

They walked back together in a group as Hanneman continued to talk with Annette about her questions on studying for her upcoming exam. Felix and Sylvain were palling around and Mercedes found herself hanging back towards Hubert as he silently brought up the rear. Even out of his school uniform he managed to dress like an old grandpa in out of fashion military style pants and a black sweater with the crisp white collar of his shirt just peeking above the neckline. All of this was layered beneath and a long black wool coat and that rich red scarf. At least he was wearing black leather gloves instead of his white uniform ones. He looked like he was coming back from assassinating someone, not just from tea with a professor.

“Is something bothering you Hubert? You seem upset.”

“Shouldn’t you be walking with your boyfriend?” Hubert’s words were especially acidic, and Mercedes wondered if he had drunk too much coffee at the cafe. He needed to eat a cookie and lighten up.

Mercedes found it easy to be the bigger person, “I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t think Sylvain is really looking for a girlfriend right now.” Maybe someday, but not at the moment. Hubert said nothing as he walked with his hands clasped behind his back and his face set in a frown. Mercedes idly hummed and swung her purse. “Did you know Hanneman before you came to Garreg Mach?”

Hubert’s face betrayed no mirth. “Yes, he is a friend of the family.” She supposed she knew little of the Black Eagles’ families, other than Caspar’s, but he freely shared every thought in his head.

“You never talk about your family,” said Mercedes.

“Nor do you,” said Hubert, effectively killing the conversation from there all the way up to the main entrance of the monastery. “Excuse me, I must be going. Goodbye Mercedes,” he gave her an overly polite bow as he peeled off and headed towards the stables instead of towards the dining hall with everyone else.

Come Monday, Hubert was not in class. Nor was he there on Tuesday. He did not show up the entire week and Mercedes wondered if anyone had bothered to check in on him or take him his homework. She decided to do it herself.

Mercedes didn’t care for the second floor dormitory. It felt too closed up and she much preferred her easy walk to the dining hall and the sounds of the fountain filtering into her room at night. The floor was deserted but eventually Mercedes found some familiar names. Someone had made little placards with the Adrestian eagle upon them for the Black Eagles’ rooms. Their names were written in big careful calligraphy. _Ferdinand_ , _Edelgard_ , no placard, _Caspar_. Mercedes looked again at the blank door and figured it had to be Hubert’s though it was odd he didn’t have a name card.

The door was not shut all the way. Mercedes carefully pulled it open half expecting to find Hubert buried in blankets and fighting a cold. She might have fantasized briefly of being the one to rescue him with her impeccable faith magic, but instead what she saw was nothing. The room was emptied out as if no one lived there at all.

“What are you doing?”

Mercedes spun to look down at Edelgard giving her a suspicious glare. “Oh, I came by with Hubert’s homework because he’s missed class.”

“Hubert is gone,” said Edelgard with a flick of her platinum hair. Her patience seemed thin.

“Gone?”

“There was a sudden death in his family, he had to go home as executor of the estate,” said Edelgard. That seemed extremely important.

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that, was it someone he was close to?”

“His father, though, I wouldn’t call them close,” said Edelgard as her violet eyes bore into Mercedes. Mercedes didn’t have anything to say to that as she quietly excused herself and went back to her room to cuddle her little cats that were now eagerly exploring the world outside their box.

***

Trying to learn faith magic had been sobering. Hubert had been attempting to privately practice since the lesson to no avail. All Mercedes apparently had to do was think of _kittens_ and voila, she was the best healer in their class. When Hubert thought of kittens, he thought of abandoned whelps struggling on their own, bellies bloated with intestinal worms, freezing to death in the snow. The world was unkind, and most did not survive it.

One had survived, so far anyway. Hubert thought of the mangy black cat that up until this week had been illegally hanging out in his dorm room like a roommate he never wanted. It was ugly as sin, with one eye lost to some fight, and unpleasant in temper, yet when Hubert had seen the mean bastard yowling in a torrential downpour at the dorm windows with no one taking him in, he had snapped. Everyone was happy to fawn and fret over a new fresh kitten, but no one wanted this old cat. Hubert definitely did not want him, but someone had to step up.

Hubert hated cats. Hubert especially hated this particular ungrateful asshole that he opened his room to. When the rain stopped Hubert cracked his window to signal, “shoo”. When Hubert returned from class later that day he was greeted by a dead bird on his desk and the damned cat licking itself clean on his pillow. That had been way back in Verdant Rain Moon. No matter where he took this cat on campus and let it go it came right back to his room. It meowed at his window all night until he opened it. By Red Wolf Moon Hubert just accepted that he now had a pet.

That cat did not make him happy. It made him pissed that there were so many feral animals around Garreg Mach. He did not name it, and he did not say goodbye when he packed up his things for this long trip to Enbarr. Kittens, puppies, cats, and dogs, none of them sparked even the smallest bit of happiness within him.

Edelgard did not make him happy. Thinking about her only made the shadows over his magic darker. People thought he was too obsessive, too paternal, too suffocating when it came to the princess, but _someone_ had to protect her. No one else was left to stand up for her. Her father was a ventriloquist dummy on Arundel’s lap. Her siblings were all dead. So it was Hubert who handled the awful details of what needed to happen for Edelgard to finally get into a position to stand up for herself. This included currently meeting with Arundel and trying to talk him down from launching the offensive against Garreg Mach on the present schedule.

“It’s too soon, there are now too many unknown variables,” advised Hubert as he tried once more to give the dossier he’d prepared on Byleth to Arundel.

“We will have to move quickly once the coronation happens this week, we cannot delay,” said Arundel as he ignored the neatly bound file folder.

“I’m telling you that he cut through literal nothingness and killed Solon,” said Hubert. He spoke slowly since Arundel didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. Byleth had powers now, powers that no one including himself understood. “That doesn’t alarm you? I’m alarmed and you know that little is able to shake me.”

Arundel sneered at Hubert, “Thank you for the sage wisdom.” His violet eyes seemed unnaturally bright, like some sort of nocturnal creature, in the poor lighting of the carriage.

Hubert hated the regent’s plan to raid the crest stones from the mausoleum when it was opened up by Rhea. He’d far prefer to attack Garreg Mach at the juncture of the new year when the students went home for their holiday break. They could just figure out how to open the mausoleum themselves and it would minimize the number of people fighting on the side of the church. Yet Arundel refused to budge. The crest stones were critical to him, no matter the potential losses.

“If you don’t want my read on the situation, why have me spy upon that professor at all? You know, all your secrets have not made my job any easier. A little warning about the situation in Remire would have gone a long way—”

“I owe you nothing,” said Arundel. “You are involved because the princess requested you attend her at school. You seem to be under the impression that you are important, but if you continue to displease me it would be no great loss to dispose of you.”

Hubert had a hundred wrathful responses that he wrapped up tight and did not voice. If he was removed from the game this early, there would be no one at Edelgard’s side. No one that cared about her and could deal with these matters anyway. Hubert tried to focus on that instead of his pooling anxiety over where they were heading. Dorothea and Petra were good, they had shown themselves trustworthy. They would take care of Edelgard if anything happened to Hubert. They would be at her side while he slipped further into the shadows trying to keep Arundel at arm’s length. They were suitable companions for the light.

The carriage ride from Enbarr out to this placid little estate was not too long, but to Hubert it felt like an eternity spent with a creature wearing a dead man’s skin. The estate was not expecting visitors, especially not at this late hour and Hubert was hardly surprised by his step-mother’s reaction, “Why are _you_ here?”

Hubert didn’t even have a chance to answer before Arundel stepped out of the carriage. Robert von Vestra put a light hand on his wife’s shoulder, “This is work business, don’t worry yourself over it.” Robert smiled and gestured for the two men to enter, “Welcome Lord Arundel, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” He paused and nodded at his son, “Hubert.”

“Evening,” muttered Hubert as he elected to follow up the rear. He declined to say _good_ evening, because this was not going to be very good for his father at all.

The house looked as generically gilded as it had the last time Hubert had been here. He sat on a floral sofa and waited to get this business over with. Arundel, true to form, was already going off script, “Do you mind if I use your restroom?” Hubert suspected Arundel did this sort of thing precisely to put Hubert on edge over the uncertainty of what the regent was going to do next.

“Oh of course,” Robert showed the regent down the hall. When his father returned he stopped by the little well stocked liquor cabinet, “Would you like something?”

“No thank you, I do not drink,” murmured Hubert as he watched his father pouring himself a thin layer of something dark. Robert was still loose mannered and good looking, although his age was finally starting to show. His light chestnut hair was going gray and in a much more obvious way these days and the drinking had finally settled in his gut. He was ever the honest picture of nobility.

“Right, of course you don’t,” said Robert as his voice turned bitter. He took a cozy chair catercorner to Hubert’s sofa. He rested one leg across his knee and jiggled his foot impatiently while he looked his son over. “You dress like him, you talk like him, you think like him.” Robert knocked back his drink and shook his head, “You know my father wasn’t sober when I was a child. He would have drunk himself into a hole in the ground that much sooner if he hadn’t quit—”

“I just don’t care for the taste,” said Hubert as he rested his forearms on his legs and leaned forward. The last thing he needed right now was his father giving him a lecture about his dead grandfather. He felt nauseous enough having to be here, there was no need to inject that extra layer of discomfort.

“Sure. So, what brings you here tonight, shouldn’t you be at school?” Robert knew some trouble for himself was afoot, but Hubert expected he’d still be surprised by the arrest. They were taking him out first, Varley next, and Aegir last on the day of the coronation. This would be a busy week.

“The semester is over,” lied Hubert. He expected his father had no clue what the academic calendar looked like at Garreg Mach.

“Shit, I should have gotten you a graduation present or something,” said his father with a frown. “Are you staying at the Enbarr house?”

Hubert just nodded. The Enbarr house, despite all the bad memories gathering dust in it, had been more a home than this stupid place had ever been.

“Still not much of a talker I see, shame, I thought that school might finally loosen you up. Did you manage to make any friends at that ludicrously expensive place?” Robert smirked and got up for another drink. This was his way, taking many small drinks over the course of the night. There was never enough in his glass to look alarming, but there was always enough in his system to keep Hubert’s nerves wired for a confrontation.

Lord Arundel appeared back in the parlor. Hubert hated himself for reflexively standing up with his hands behind his back as the regent selected his seat. Robert did not move. Arundel was wearing his typical ornate cream and crimson robes, and it took him a few moments to sit as resplendently as possible. Only then did Hubert return to sit. His father looked bemused by the whole sequence. At least Robert had the wherewithal to wait for Lord Arundel to speak first. “Marquis von Vestra thank you for receiving us at this late hour.”

“My home is always open to the Regent of the Empire,” said Robert easily.

“You have been a loyal member of the cabinet over these last ten years.”

“Is it the ten year anniversary already? I suppose we ought to be planning something to commemorate things,” mused Robert. It was not unlike him to leave things until the last moment or forget them all together.

“Yes it is hard to believe, but, I will soon be stepping down to make way for the new emperor,” said Arundel as he ran a finger along the arm of his chair tracing the flourishing pattern.

“New Emperor? You mean to say you’re seriously letting Edelgard take the throne? What is she, sixteen, seventeen?”

“She’s eighteen,” said Hubert as he let his eyes focus on the carpet. It was a very nice and expensive looking import from the Alliance. His step mother had most definitely picked it out.

“Eighteen is still very young, I assume the council will have to regularly meet to advise her, is that why you’re visiting?” Robert seemed to relax a little bit as if that’s all this visit was about.

“Indeed, although we anticipate some changes to the cabinet,” said Arundel. His voice was almost friendly, which made Hubert’s eye begin to twitch involuntarily. This was a stress twitch his father pointed out so often that Hubert had just grown his hair out to cover. It was maddening, and just another thing Hubert had no control over.

Robert grinned too easily, “Please tell me you’re finally taking my advice and dropping Varley.”

“Yes, Varley is out,” said Arundel as Robert got up for another drink.

“Would you care for something to celebrate that with?” asked Robert as he poured himself another taste.

“No thank you, we have an early start tomorrow out to Varley’s territory to inform him,” said Arundel. He gave Robert a tight smile as the Marquis returned to his seat.

“We? Has my son found a job already?”

“Indeed, Hubert has proved a loyal and useful servant,” said Arundel as his eyes flicked over to Hubert. It did not feel like a compliment Hubert wanted. “Edelgard wishes him to be her Minister of the Imperial Household.”

Hubert’s eyes traced to his father to behold Robert’s confused expression. Robert recovered with a chuckle, “Naturally, and he will be, after he’s trained with me. We can start as soon as she wants. I expect that’ll take a few years though for that sort of transition. I expect I’ll enjoy retirement.”

“He will not require your guidance,” said Arundel as he got up and produced a scroll of parchment sealed with the gold wax of the special Imperial seal.

“What is this?” Robert was quick to take it.

“Lady Edelgard has many feelings about the Insurrection, especially over how it was carried out and the things that happened to her siblings. She will be overseeing private trials for the seven of us and others involved,” said Arundel. “Until your trial, you will be kept here under house arrest.”

“House arrest? Are you serious?” Robert was reading over the paper with anger beginning to flood his pale green eyes. He looked back up with a incensed expression that Hubert knew so well. “You don’t have the power to enforce this, by the Charter I have rights,” said Robert as he stood holding the warrant for his arrest. “When the Prime Minister hears what you are doing—”

Arundel sneered at Hubert as if to ask, _“Can you believe him?”_ and then turned to cast. Dark spikes at close range was overkill for the target. Dark Spikes was overkill for everything but cavalry.

_A power struggle in the the throne room. Rebelling soldiers and mages in black beaked masks. Dark spikes and pools of blood._

Hubert’s father had a shocked expression plastered to his once handsome face. Now it was broken in half.

_A sword through the chest. The first vassal dead, but not the last to fall._

Hubert stared at the carpet and the blood pooling upon it. He felt strangely lightheaded though this was hardly the first person he’d seen killed in such a manner.

_Marble stained crimson._

Hubert’s eyes traced to the stairs where his step mother and his half siblings, drawn by the curiosity of why the regent was visiting, cowered in shock and terror. Hubert focused on breathing as he assessed the situation. He turned off whatever feelings wanted to boil over and looked at Arundel passively, “Please, return to Enbarr, and I will clean up the mess.”

The corner of Arundel’s lip curled up with satisfaction. He touched Hubert lightly on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “Good dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, prepare for a bloody Insurrection and a different take on the family Vestra


	4. Scenes of a Bastard Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets of Hubert's life from ages 0 to 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General content warning for child neglect/mild physical abuse

**1160**

Robert von Vestra had a multitude of things going for him. He was the heir of his family — a political powerhouse intertwined with the Imperial family — he was young and good looking, he was well liked, and now, apparently, he had a son. He recognized the woman here at his house at this ungodly hour, but he hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again. She’d been entertainment at a party he’d hosted last summer to celebrate moving into a home of his own and away from his parents. He had no recollection of her name, which was likely to be one single name, because he probably had not asked her it.

“I just need some money and then I’ll leave you alone,” she promised. She didn’t look quite as good as he remembered. Her cheeks were gaunt and hollowed and her big dark eyes had noticeable lines beneath them. He vaguely recalled her being sun kissed and tanned when they were together, but now the last of the carefree signs of summer had left her. Her hair was what he remembered most to be honest. It was long and dark and thick, and begged to be brushed through by fingers. Her child, the one that she was saying was his, had that same dark coloration and looked nothing like a Vestra.

“I remember you, but, I’m not sure this child is _my_ responsibility,” said Robert carefully. Who knew how many men she had been with? Was the timing even right? He looked again at the tiny thing on her chest, small and frail, and just didn’t think a son of his should look like that. The von Vestras were tall and strong, they were the protectors of the Imperial family. This infant looked like a runt.

“Please, look at his eyes,” she begged. She pressed the little creature towards him and Robert, who had no experience holding anything so small, tensed up and froze as he took the boy into his hands. The newborn squirmed and frowned as his left eye cracked open with suspicion as if to ask, “ _Who are you?_ ” He bore an iris of pale peridot green. It was an unusual shade that ran strong in his family. In looking closer at his little face there were glimmers of familiarity in his other features. Robert sighed and felt a small sense of attachment stirring within him, well, this was his son. A storm of pride at the thought of having a son, and shame at the circumstances, whirled within him.

“I will take him,” murmured Robert, as he sorted through his shock. He knew little of children and less of infants but he could figure it out.

“You don’t have to take him,” she said in a panic. “I’ll care for him, I just need some money to get by until I can find work again—”

“And how long before you’re back begging?” asked Robert. He had a swift harsh voice when he wanted that snapped like a whip. Leaving his son with this woman meant a life of scraping by on the street. That was not a life fit for a Vestra. Taking him in was the right thing to do. “I will pay you for the inconvenience you’ve faced, the work you’ve lost, but this is my son and I will raise him as such.”

_Inconvenience_. The inconvenience of carrying his bastard this far was worth a generous sum of silver and a shut door. Robert held the boy with a growing sense of ‘ _shit_ ’ as he realized he had no idea what to do with him. He probably needed a place to sleep. Robert focused on that. A breadbasket and a nest of dishtowels from the kitchen made for a decent enough makeshift bed. The kitchen was plenty warm, perhaps the warmest room in the house. Alright then, the boy could sleep here tonight and Robert would figure proper accommodations tomorrow. The cook would probably know what to do when she arrived in the early morning, she had children as far as Robert remembered. Satisfied with the arrangement, Robert tucked his son in and went up to bed.

His son let out a soft cry that grew louder. He’d been spending the last few weeks curled up warm against his mother and her on demand food supply. Now he was alone and hungry. He cried because that was how one got held and fed. Yet no one in this new strange dark place came to his aid. Robert could barely hear him up in his bedroom, and figured that babies got upset easily, and would settle down if left alone. The infant in the kitchen missed the memo and continued to cry, all night, and into the early hours of the morning when the confused cook finally came to work.

It was not a good start to the relationship of father and son.

***

Bertram von Vestra had a multitude of things going for him. He was getting old and his reddish hair was giving way to blond and gray and he kept a massively impressive mustache. He insisted his black vest and billowing black pants tucked into boots looked slimming, although he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was Minister of the Imperial Household, helping to guide and protect Ionius IX, just like his father had served Ionius VIII. His son Robert would soon begin his own training to eventually replace Bertram as the future minister for the rising Ionius X, though he expected his son might take a few extra years to live up to the responsibility. Robert was self-assured and impetuous but that came with the territory of youth. Bertram’s younger son Alfred was the dutiful vassal for Ioniux X. Bertram’s wiry wife Agatha helped to manage the Imperial consorts by keeping the peace between Ionius IX’s wives and making sure all the children were well cared for. The von Vestras each had their duty in running things behind the scenes, and they took great pride in their role as the loyal shadows behind the Emperor.

Now apparently Bertram had a grandson. Bertram shut his eyes and gripped his cane, knuckles white with anger, as he listened to his wife chastising their idiot heir. Agatha, though she had not had an infant of her own in fifteen years, was clutching this little one to her now like a protective mother bear. Bony fingers rubbed through the boy’s black hair as he bawled against her chest. Bertram sighed, well with looks like that there was no denying he was from Enbarr’s common stock. However Agatha’s hair had always been a little darker than most, so perhaps no one would ask. Bertram was already conceiving of the ways to fix and cover up this situation, although he was more used to hiding Hresvelg accidents than Vestra ones. The fact was that there was no way Robert was ready to rise to the challenge of parenthood. Bertram was going to push for sending this baby to their relatives in Ochs. They would welcome a child.

Agatha was incensed by her son’s ineptitude, and her eyebrows seemed permanently arched. She was not a conventionally attractive woman, too stern, too sharp, but goddess had Bertram learned to love his aggressive arranged wife. Right now her intense glare was focused on Robert, “You just left him in this basket all night, _crying_?”

“Babies cry, that’s what they do,” started Robert as he tried to defend himself. Bertram focused on not throttling his moronic twenty year old son.

“They cry because they need something, when was he last fed?” Agatha looked at her oldest son like he was a lost cause, and this helpless little baby was her new cause. Robert winced at the question and Agatha’s face did her famous damning frown, “Go find a fucking wet nurse or do not come back at all.”

“Language,” said Bertram under his breath as he watched his son hurrying to grab a coat. Robert left with a slam of the door as he set to his task. Bertram rose and came to stand behind his wife as he looked down at their newest family member, “Do you suppose he has a name, a birthday? Or do you think Robert just forgot to ask?”

Agatha only snarled in contempt for their immature son and this mess of his making. Bertram pursed his lips, “What’s today? Seventeenth of Great Tree Moon? That’s a good birthday.” He studied the dark haired little boy and decided he needed a little brightness about him, _Bright Heart_ , “Hubert. Hubert von Vestra.”

“Another Bert, really?” sighed Agatha. She had no love for their family’s traditional naming scheme. Bertram knew he was biased but he thought it was just fine.

“Well you wouldn’t let me name Alfred Albert, so I had get the next generation,” laughed Bertram as he extended a finger towards the infant who was still pretty upset about his present situation. “I know, I know, don’t be too cross with your father, he has no idea what he’s doing, but we’re here now.” They knew what they were doing, they would make sure this child survived despite this rocky introduction to the family.

***

Robert was learning to hold his son although Hubert clearly preferred Agatha. She had all but moved in permanently to care for the boy and Robert was chagrined because he’d bought this house in Enbarr precisely to get away from his parents. However, the help was welcome because Hubert was teething and crying all the time. Robert was trying to hire a nanny but Agatha was being impossibly picky and firing them as soon as he hired them. Robert wished his son would hurry up and get over this latest loud phase. “Was I like this when I was born?”

Agatha scoffed, “Please, you were worse.”

Robert frowned, his mother was prone to sarcasm and exaggeration. Her words often veered harsh, even when her tone was tender. It grew tiresome after 21 years. “I’ve begun the process of getting him legitimized.” It was perfectly normal for nobles to legitimize their crested bastard children, although to keep one without a crest was unusual. However the von Vestras didn’t have crests, which was why they were so closely glued to the powerful Hresvelgs, and Robert wasn’t worried about ‘diluting’ the family blood as so many houses fretted over.

Agatha looked at her son again, and he saw a rare glimmer of approval in her harsh features, “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Robert as he finally coaxed Hubert into a relaxed state. Most of the time he felt hopeless in caring for his son, but it was these peaceful moments that made him optimistic. “I don’t want to send him off to those cousins in Ochs. It’s too far, he belongs here in Enbarr. He belongs with me.” The Ochs would raise the child just fine, but, Robert knew he would do an excellent job once he figured his son out. It was his actions that had led to this and so he would take responsibility, that is what a Vestra did.

“You know your father and I—”

“I’ll do it,” said Robert, cutting his mother off before she could try to take Hubert from him for the umpteenth time. Of course his parents thought they would raise Hubert better, they always thought they knew best. His father was controlling and had no faith in Robert. Any suggestion that went against the grain was shot down and obliterated. Any criticisms of Ionius’ policies were promptly dismissed, even though anyone with eyes could see how the nobility was beginning to tear itself apart. His father was an imperial loyalist to the bone, and Robert thought Bertram was being obstinately blind. Houses were falling left and right and doing some truly ghastly things to get crests to protect themselves. It was an absolute mess and Robert felt like the only person listening to his concerns was the Prime Minister.

His parents were softer on his younger brother, there was less riding on Al, but they were hard on Robert. They doted on Hubert for now but the last thing he wanted was his son being raised just like he had been. Once legitimized Hubert would be the tentative heir of the house, until Robert got married and had other children. No, it would best to raise his son in _his_ vision for the future of House Vestra. This was his chance to finally break free of all those unquestioned traditions, strict rules, and lofty expectations.

***

**1164**

Hubert crept down to the kitchen while being as quiet as he could. Saturdays were always difficult but they were followed by Sunday, the best day of the week. That’s when Hubert got to go the palace and visit his grandparents and his uncle and spend the whole day with them. During the week life made sense. Hubert liked things best when he knew what was going to happen. There was a scheduled rise time, breakfast was always ready when he got downstairs, and the morning nanny kept him occupied for the whole day with activities. They walked the park, they ate lunch, they played for a little bit, and then father came home from work. Then the evening nanny showed up to take over. Dinner, bath, bed. Wake up and repeat.

Friday nights were when things got iffy. The nanny would put him to bed early, because she had her own life to get to, and Hubert would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of the front door opening and closing when father finally got home. Sometimes he was alone. Sometimes he wasn’t. Sometimes he was quiet, sometimes he was loud. Sometimes he came home at a normal time, but sometimes he didn’t come home at all. Hubert was a light sleeper and sometimes he couldn’t help but stay up waiting for his father to get home, since he’d wake up anyway when Robert finally got in. However on the nights he didn’t get in, Hubert lay awake and anxious because he was all alone in this house.

This brought Hubert to Saturday, the unstructured day where anything could happen. Hubert usually made due with bread, and maybe some cheese if there was any, on Saturdays when the cook was off. Typically they ate a cold lunch and dinner out, but it really was up to Robert and how he was feeling. Hubert noticed his father was usually sick on Saturday mornings, especially when he stayed out late the night before. If he didn’t come home, then he wasn’t coming home until much later because he was _really_ sick. Hubert didn’t know what his father had, but it was best not to disturb him. He usually had a headache, sometimes he threw up, and it was important to be quiet and unseen on Saturdays. Saturdays were about taking care of oneself, and Hubert was learning all sorts of tricks to look out for himself.

This Saturday there was a woman in the kitchen. She was wearing one of his father’s shirts and humming as she helped herself to breakfast. Hubert stared from the doorway. She looked surprised when she saw him but recovered from her shock, “I didn’t know Robbie had a son.”

_Robbie_. Ugh, that’s what his father’s loud friends called Robert. Hubert just nodded and went to get his bread so he could hurry up and make himself scarce. The woman looked at him and looked at the pan, “Do you want some scrambled eggs?”

Hubert paused and glanced around, a hot breakfast on a Saturday? Had that ever occurred? “Um, yes, please.”

Hubert spent most of the morning and into the afternoon playing with the magical breakfast making lady while his father snoozed before she had to go. He told his grandfather all about it the next day, which prompted Bertram to inquire what Saturdays were normally like in Robert’s house. Hubert told him. Bertram yelled at Robert in the palace gardens for a good hour, while Uncle Al took Hubert to the Imperial stables to look at some ponies.

“My son is a rat,” muttered Robert to himself when he put Hubert to bed that evening.

Hubert waited until he heard his father’s bedroom door slam shut before getting out of bed pulling a book from the shelf. Bedtime stories were best when read by someone else, but Hubert could at least look at the pictures and make up his own story since he could not read. He pushed open his curtains and looked at the images from the light filtering in from the gas lamps down on the street.

***

**1166**

Hubert’s father worked in the palace, and started bringing Hubert with him during the day because Agatha was getting concerned that Hubert wasn’t learning to read or write yet and decided she would just teach him herself. Robert and Bertram worked closely together on important things, but in the afternoons after lessons, Uncle Al was available to watch Hubert. This was how he met Edelgard.

Ionius X laughed as he watched his younger sister with his vassal’s nephew, “They’re fast friends.” It was true; Edelgard and Hubert were closer in age to each other than they were to the other children in the palace. They were on the same page when it came play.

Edelgard talked, a lot. She rambled on about all sorts of things while Hubert listened and held his empty teacup. “Oh Hubert, you need more tea!” She picked up the teapot and mimed pouring him some more. She waited for him to pretend to drink it, “Do you like it?”

“It’s excellent Lady Ed, um, Lady Edel—” said Hubert as he struggled to pronounce her name.

“El, just call me El,” said Edelgard, all bubbles and brightness. He nodded and pretended to take a bite of her carved wooden biscuits. This pleased her greatly. He didn’t have much experience playing with other kids, he spent most of his play time alone, but Edelgard didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t know the games the older children mocked him for not understanding. She was only just learning to read and write too, and didn’t make fun of him for not knowing how to spell his name yet.

Hubert’s father was very pleased when Hubert was officially made Edelgard’s vassal. Hubert wasn’t used to making his father proud and so he took his duties very seriously. Hubert had to swear an oath to protect her and always look out for her, and of course play whatever games she wanted. That was all well and good until the summer. Edelgard had received a very nice kite for her fifth birthday and on the first day they took it out, it decided to promptly get tangled up in a tree.

Hubert frowned at the height of the offending tree branch, “I think we aren’t getting your kite back.” There was no way he was climbing up there. That was way too scary!

Edelgard frowned at him and put her hands on her hips, “I can get it.”

“I don’t know El,” said Hubert reluctantly. “It’s really high.”

“I’m not afraid, come on, I order you to give me a boost,” she said. She was pretty bossy but Hubert didn’t mind. She was fun to play with. She was his friend.

Hubert felt Edelgard’s feet leave his shoulders as she ascended into the tree. “Please don’t fall,” said Hubert as he watched her teetering, goddess did he hate heights.

“I’m not going to,” scoffed Edelgard as she untangled the line. The kite slowly drifted back to earth. “See, that wasn’t hard.” She angled herself to get back down onto a lower bough. Hubert watched as her foot slipped and Edelgard fell.

Much crying and one desperate trip to the healer later Hubert found himself getting yelled at by his father. Robert held his son’s arm tightly, “You are Lady Edelgard’s servant!” His face was turning red as he shook his finger in Hubert’s face, “You must protect her with you life.” She had been seriously hurt from the fall, and Hubert had already been crying about it. He cried more as his father’s grip twisted.

“Robert, enough,” said Bertram as he came back from the healer’s. “Lady Edelgard is recovering just fine. There’s barely a bruise on her now.”

“He needs to learn responsibility,” started Robert.

Bertram laughed with contempt at his son, “And what do you know about being responsible?” He glared at Robert’s tight grip and sighed, “Come on Hubert, I have something that you can give to Lady Edelgard to make her smile.”

Hubert’s eyes were downcast and teary as he held his grandfather’s hand while they walked down the hall towards the Minister’s office. It was packed with paperwork and so many books. Hubert sniffled and looked up to see a crisp white handkerchief hanging in his face with the initials BvV embroidered in the corner. Hubert took it and dried his eyes and blew his nose. Bertram lifted him up to sit in a chair. Hubert’s feet didn’t even come close to touching the floor.

“Don’t worry, I have just the thing.” Bertram reached up to a big box on a high shelf and pulled it down. He rummaged about, “Here we go. I have it on good authority that princess Edelgard loves pegasi. This will cheer her up.” He handed Hubert a wooden figurine of a very pleasant looking pegasus with its wings outstretched. “Give her that and I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

Hubert looked at the toy and back at the box longing to know what else was in there. “What all is in that box?”

Bertram eyed the box warily, “Oh _this_ box? This is just the box of old stuff I save to keep the youngsters of the Imperial palace entertained. But I doubt that there’s anything in here you’d be interested in.”

Hubert looked at the box and was itching in his seat with curiosity. He pursed his lips and knew he shouldn’t ask but goddess did he want to see what was in there, “Maybe you should let me check just in case there is something I might be interested in?” He glanced up at his grandfather quickly to see if he’d angered him. He didn’t know what would set his father off, and while Bertram had never yelled at Hubert, he had a feeling it was only a matter of time before he disappointed him too.

Bertram smirked, “Well, I suppose a _little_ peek couldn’t hurt.” He tipped the box forward and raised his eyebrow, “See like I said you’re probably not interested.”

Hubert was so interested. His eyes were wide as they darted from a knight to a dragon to all sorts of little toys. A princess, a king, a stuffed wyvern. Bertram wagged his eyebrows at Hubert, “Would you care for something?”

Hubert nodded and cautiously got closer. He really wanted them all to be honest, they looked like a great deal of fun. At home he had his stuffed bear the cook had made him for his birthday, and the little soldier figure the butler had carved for him. His father had given him a cricket bat and ball but never had time to teach him how to play.

Hubert wanted that dragon. It was big and snarling and kind of scary looking. He looked again at the placid little pegasus in his hands, and knew he was supposed to be playing with princess Edelgard. Maybe it was important to make sure he had something that played well with her pegasus. The dragon looked like it could eat it. He reached in and chose a princess. This would really cheer Edelgard up after the fall.

“Are you positive that’s the one you want?”

Hubert gave one last fleeting look to the dragon and then nodded, “Yes, thank you grandpa.”

Bertram scratched his chin and looked around the office. “I suppose I could just leave this box down here, on this lower shelf.” He moved it towards a shelf near the floor. “As long as you promise to clean up after yourself, I don’t mind if you play with these when you’re at the palace.”

“Really?” Hubert looked up with surprise. There were some pretty good toys in there and even the worst one was more exciting than what he had at home. It was too much, and Hubert wasn’t sure he deserved it after what he’d let happen to Edelgard. He was gripped with the sudden anxiety that this was some sort of test, and he’d just failed it. He felt his heart racing as he fixed his stare on the floor, “No thank you, I should be grateful for everything I have.” That’s what his father always told him. His life was much better than if he’d been raised by his mysterious mother; every time they passed a woman begging on the street Hubert wondered if that was her.

His grandfather sat back down and stared at him with keen intent. “You know Hubert, now that you’re a vassal like your uncle, it makes sense that you should live here in the palace, with grandma and me. Would you like that?”

Visiting his grandparents was always the best part of the week, but to stay and never have to go home with his father, was that a serious offer? “Yes,” said Hubert. His voice was quiet because he felt a strange shame at not wanting to live with his father. Hubert trembled as he thought about what his father would think of that, “Please don’t tell him I said that.” Robert would probably call him a rat again when he got drunk. _Ungrateful rat bastard_.

Bertram nodded, “Alright. Well, let’s get go check in on Lady Edelgard, and I’ll talk with your father.”

Edelgard was delighted by the wood pegasus figure. She also seemed very proud of her bruised arm which she was showing off to anyone who would look, “I’m not afraid of anything!” Every little girl went through a pegasus phase but Edelgard was obsessed. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching sky patrols, and playing pegasus and rider. Hubert was the pegasus because he was bigger. Edelgard was trying to convince him to become a pegasus knight when he grew up. “You know, you could just be a pegasus knight,” suggested Hubert as they watched the creature flying up so very high. He was pretty sure only girls who weren’t terrified of heights could be pegasus knights.

“Hubert! I’m a princess, I have important princess stuff to do,” said Edelgard as she rolled over on the grass to look at him. “You can fly me around on yours when I have time to get away from all my duties. Plus, think of how well you could protect me if you were a pegasus! You’d be able to see everything! Go anywhere! You’d be unstoppable.”

_True_ , but he was going to work on convincing her it was never going to happen. After that day Hubert was constantly at Edelgard’s side. He didn’t have to go home now, and he was so happy about that. His father was still around of course, working in the palace, but he lived in the home in Enbarr. Robert was busy courting and spending time with other nobles and Hubert was secretly glad his father had other things to hold his focus. He knew his father was a mad about the arrangement but Robert just got distant instead of angry.

***

**1170**

“Happy birthday Hubert, you’ve survived to ten,” said his grandfather was an air of forced grimness.

Hubert knew this routine by now. “It’s a shame you didn’t think I would, or else you would have gotten me a birthday present I’m sure.” He was learning how to recognize sarcasm and be facetious. Irony was his favorite.

Bertram grunted and shook his head, “I’ll have to find something then won’t I?” He looked around his office and pretended to rummage about even though Hubert knew his gift had to be hidden somewhere. Hubert had already gotten his other presents at breakfast. From grandma, a new knit sweater because he kept growing out of them, from Al, a blunted training sword, from Robert, a chess board with pieces and promises that he’d teach him to play when he had time. Bertram promised to teach him even if his father didn’t have time.

Bertram handed Hubert a big book. _Shit_ , maybe his grandfather really had forgotten his birthday this year. _Shit!_ He wasn’t supposed to be using that word that he’d heard from Al when his uncle stubbed his toe. _Fuck_. Wait, he wasn’t supposed to use that one either even though Agatha used it under her breath all the time. Bertram hated curse words.

“Thank you?” Hubert ran his hand along the interesting shapes on the front.

“It’s a magic tome Hubert, you’re ten, I’m going to teach you to cast,” said Bertram. He pulled his pocket watch out of his vest, “There’s still some time to learn a bit today.” They went to the gardens and Hubert’s life changed forever.

1170 became the year of magic. Hubert had read his tome from front to back more times than he could remember. Bertram took him outside to practice whenever there was time. It was exciting to be able to do a spell, even if Hubert only knew one at the moment. Edelgard insisted she learn too even though she wasn’t ten. Hubert didn’t argue because for once he was actually better at something than the princess. He could make a little flame that floated for a few seconds before disappearing. Edelgard could just make the air warm.

“Good, good,” said Bertram with approval as he watched their progress.

“Grandpa, what’s the best spell you can do?” Hubert had been pouring over his tome and bookmarking the coolest looking ones.

“Meteor,” said Bertram. He looked around the imperial gardens and winced, “I’ll show you when we go to the beach for the summer.” Hubert loved the beach even though Edelgard was presently afraid of the ocean and wouldn’t even put her toe in last year. One of her brothers had told her about sharks. Hubert wanted to see one, maybe catch one if he was lucky, but Edelgard was sure she was going to get eaten.

“What about dark magic?” Hubert had seen it mentioned in the book but there was nothing on how to do it. This tome was only for black magic spells.

“Dark magic isn’t very common,” said Bertram. He seemed reluctant to talk about it, which only made Hubert’s curiosity burn hotter. “It takes a certain type of person to do those spells, and it’s not the type of person I want you to be.”

“Oh,” said Hubert. “Is it bad?”

“Bad isn’t the right word,” said Bertram. He looked at the two children with pursed lips. “It’s more powerful than black magic, but more power isn’t always better. It’s dangerous, and if you use it you have to be ready to take responsibility for the damage it can cause. You have to really want to destroy something, and not have any regrets about it.” Bertram smiled, “I know a faith spell you’d like though.”

Hubert felt a sudden change in the air as if a toasty warm blanket was being wrapped around him. He opened his eyes and he was on the other side of the garden, “What!”

“It’s warp!” Bertram spent the afternoon warping Edelgard and Hubert around while they tried to play tag. Each time the child that was it would get close to the other, Bertram would warp one of them completely out of the way.

Magic was the first thing Hubert was really, truly good at and it felt amazing. He wanted to do magic all the time. That fall Hubert’s grandfather even introduced him to a professor of magic that was a friend of the family, who kindly taught Hubert some more spells and told him if he got really good there were whole schools for sorcery he could attend. That’s what Hubert started working towards even though Edelgard was still trying to convince him he should be a pegasus knight. He told her he would consider it if he could use magic instead of a lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bertram…as in the same name as Babe-Bert from Caspar’s Misconceptions? Why yes, these stories are continuous, because as a person with chronic worldbuilder’s disease, even a 1600 word one shot has an elaborate backstory (gestures to present fic).


	5. The Insurrection of the Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert's memories of the insurrection and what came after

**1171 - Adrestia Day**

The palace was under attack. Hubert pulled Edelgard quickly down the hall, “Come on, in here.” His grandfather’s office was the safest place he knew. Hubert brough Edelgard into the the office and opened up the little compartment, the hiding place, that Bertram had shown him. There was unrest in the capital, riots in Enbarr, and Bertram had told Hubert that if anything bad was happening he was to hide here until someone came to get him. However, he had to hide Edelgard and this was the only place he knew. “I’ll be back when it’s safe, just be quiet.”

“Hubert, I don’t want to be alone,” whispered Edelgard. Tears were brimming in her eyes and he just wanted to hug her, but there was no way they would both fit in the little space.

Hubert looked around the room and spied the old toy box his grandfather still kept on a low shelf. “I’ll get you someone to keep you company,” said Hubert. “Just stay quiet.” He closed the panel and went to dig through the box. He found the the pegasus figurine she loved so much. “Don’t come out until I get you.” Edelgard’s lip trembled as she nodded. Hubert tried to look brave as he closed her in.

He picked the toy box up and started to move it back to the shelf when someone else came into the office. “Hey, kid, come on.” The speaker’s voice was muffled by a long black beaked mask. It could have been a woman or a man; they were so heavily robed and wearing black leather gloves that Hubert couldn’t even guess. They grabbed his arm and Hubert instinctively resisted as he pulled free and ran.

Hubert was a fast runner, and he knew these halls better than the rebels currently invading it. He had to get to his grandfather, and he knew Bertram would be in the throne room with the Emperor. Hubert slipped down halls and through rooms, and eventual into the throne room. He weaved his way through the people that had gathered.

There were a lot of soldiers and mages in long black beaked masks pooling in the entrance behind a host men. Hubert saw his father standing behind a few other men. They had a big proclamation they were reading to Ionius IX. “By the Charter of Enbarr we denounce your absolute rule, and establish an aristocratic oligarchy to henceforth rule Adrestia.” That was Lord Arundel speaking, Edelgard’s uncle. Hubert’s stomach twisted as he listened.

The emperor stood, with his heir to his right and last loyal minister to his left. Behind them were the remaining contingents of soldiers loyal to the emperor. Hubert was shaking as Ionius IX looked around the room, “I do not accept this, and we shall fight to the last.”

The chaos that broke out imprinted itself into Hubert’s impressionable mind. Someone grabbed his wrist to pull him from the room but Hubert broke free to run towards his family. He heard his grandmother shouting his name as his grandfather spun to look in his direction.

“No,” yelled Bertram as he turned and cast at Hubert.

Green light flooded Hubert’s eyes and a warm embrace of faith magic wrapped itself around him as he found himself warped. He appeared up on the second floor in the loft that wrapped around the throne room. He looked down at the battle and saw the purple and black flash of dark magic clearing away, and his grandfather sprawled out on the floor. Hubert howled as he stared at the growing pool of blood fanning around Bertram’s motionless body. Uncle Alfred did not last long either, though instead of a spell, he got a sword right up through his chest. Hubert could barely see through his tears as someone picked him up to hold him tight. It was his father, his traitorous father whose fault this was. Hubert pushed him away, but the hug kept coming.

His resistance got him nowhere as his father carried him away from the carnage. Over his father’s shoulder he could see the Hresvelg children being corralled by dark mages down near the throne. “Hubert, it’s going to be alright.”

No, it was not. Nothing was ever going to be right again. Hubert sobbed uncontrollably into his father’s shoulder as he was carried away from the bloodshed and into the safety of the cloakroom of the privy council chamber. Hubert was set down while his father conferred with another man, another traitor, in hushed tones.

“Hubert, where is Lady Edelgard?” asked his father.

Hubert chewed on his cheek and stared at the floor. His father frowned, “Hubert, this is important. Her uncle needs to find her.”

Hubert glanced up with mistrust at Volkhard Arundel, who looked flustered and concerned. He looked like his sister, Edelgard’s mother, who had been gone for weeks now. Lord Arundel crouched to get eye level with Hubert, “Please, I need to take Edelgard to safety.”

Edelgard liked her uncle. He had just helped do this horrible thing, but he seemed to love the princess. These traitors had won, and Hubert would rather her uncle have her than those murderous dark mages gathering up her siblings. Hubert squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small sobbing sigh as he nodded. “She’s in grandpa’s office,” he whispered.

His father nodded and picked him up as he and Arundel walked quickly through the halls. Arundel had his own personal soldiers with him and no one stopped them, even though the palace was flooded with unfamiliar people. They entered the quiet office of the Minister of the Imperial Household and Hubert opened the panel to reveal Edelgard safe inside. She hugged her uncle and cried as he took her from the room.

“Wait, where is he taking her?” demanded Hubert as he watched them go.

“To safety,” said his father as he looked around the office with a mournful grimace.

“I have to say goodbye,” started Hubert. He spotted the pegasus figure left behind, “She needs her favorite toy.”

“Hubert, we’re going home,” said his father as he picked his protesting son up. Hubert clutched Edelgard’s pegasus as he cried in disbelief at the turn of the day.

***

Even with Ionius IX deposed, and Ionius X gravely injured, the Insurrection was not yet through. Enbarr was in chaos and flames, and both would take time and effort to quell. With Bertram dead, Robert was extremely busy. Hubert was left barely supervised and didn’t even have to try to slip away. He walked right through the back door of his father’s house, crossed the small yard, and through the back gate into the alley. This neighborhood wasn’t touched by the violence but as Hubert moved through the city he saw more and more evidence of the fighting.

Hubert kept his eyes towards the ground as he walked. He was wearing the clothes he wore when Al took him along camping, old and patched, so that he wouldn’t stand out. The slums were in turmoil, and no one had time to look at a little boy in shabby clothes making his way to the north gate out of Enbarr. His bag was light, because he wasn’t sure what he needed: food, matches, his water canteen, a blanket, Bertram’s old folding razor he’d stolen when they were packing up Hubert’s things from the palace, and Edelgard’s pegasus figurine. He had even scuffed up his boots so they wouldn’t look too well cared for. He didn’t want to get robbed.

Someone grabbed him by the collar and Hubert jerked his eyes up to see a woman who paled, “Sorry, I thought you were my boy.” She started to call out her son’s name, and a dark-haired boy came running to get scolded for wandering. “It’s not safe, back in the house with you,” his mother snapped as she pulled him back towards a door. Hubert picked up his pace.

He didn’t stand out so much here. He looked like these people, and that felt strange because Hubert had always felt like he didn’t look like anybody in the palace. He wasn’t sure what to make of that other than that it felt like a very good thing that no one was paying any attention to him. People were more interested in looting houses and businesses. Front doors were blown open off their hinges and broken furniture littered the streets. Hubert weaved around roguish looking men carting fine silver candelabras in their arms. He tried not to look at the bodies in the street and wonder if the people were dead or just sleeping. Up ahead a building was burning and the whole neighborhood was out trying to get enough water to put it out. Hubert found himself getting pushed to the side of the street as the fire fighters finally showed up.

When he got to the North Gate there was one guard drunk and one guard dead. Hubert walked on out and no one said a word. He wasn’t the only one getting the hell out, and Hubert just silently joined the patchy herd of people through with Enbarr. When soldiers passed, Hubert dropped his eyes to the ground and walked extra close to the nearest family to appear like one of their children. Eventually though, people got off of the road to settle in for the night, and by dusk, Hubert was on his own.

Arundel’s lands were in the far north, and Hubert’s legs weren’t so long so he didn’t stop until it got really dark. Hubert shivered and wrapped himself up in his blanket. He had noticed that he was the only boy on the road with hair well past his ears. He pulled out Bertram’s folding razor and set to cutting his hair as short as he could. He was pretty dusty from the road, but he figured a little extra muck wouldn’t hurt as he brushed a little dirt onto himself. It felt safe to look ordinary.

He pulled out his dinner for tonight, a special snack made by the cook for his birthday. He wondered if his father had even noted his absence yet. He thought about what Bertram and Agatha would say, and found himself whispering it out loud, “Eleven, are you sure? I thought you’d be taller by now. Perhaps you’re really only ten.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve as a deluge of tears started. He stared at the sweet bun, much like his grandmother was fond of making and he fond of eating, and suddenly didn’t feel very hungry at all. In the morning a mound of ants had discovered his treat, and Hubert decided they could have it. He didn’t want to eat anything that reminded him of his grandparents.

On the second day he was asked by some soldiers if he had seen a little boy about his age with black hair, but longer than his. Hubert squinted, hoping they wouldn’t notice his eyes, and shook his head, “Nope, where do you think he’s going?”

“Fhirdiad,” said the soldier as he frowned at the horizon.

“Well good luck,” said Hubert. “I’ll keep my eyes open for him.” Fhridiad! Was that a clue? The Arundel lands bordered the kingdom, so perhaps Edelgard’s uncle had taken her away from the Empire completely.

When the soldiers doubled back, Hubert made sure he was off the road entirely. They definitely knew they’d been duped, and now they knew what he looked like. He was going to have to be careful. That night he tried to name all the constellations Al had taught him. He talked to Edelgard’s pegasus figurine like it was Edelgard. “Hold on El,” he whispered as he rubbed the tiny feathers carved in its wings. “I know Fhirdiad is farther but I’ll get there eventually.” He had a nightmare that he made it to Fhirdiad, but he was older and Edelgard looked at him in confusion and asked him who he was.

He was walking while playing with the wood pegasus, pretending to make it fly beside him to ease the boredom, when the soldiers found him again. “Nice trick, you got one over on us, but now we’re going home,” said the one in charge.

Hubert clutched the pegasus to the chest, “No. I don’t have a home.”

They made to grab him and Hubert took off into the woods where their horses would have trouble following. He hoped he was at least heading east as he sprinted, dodging fallen tree limbs as he went. He managed to trip into an actual snare though and fell painfully into a particularly unpleasant bush. Hubert desperately freed his folding razor to cut himself loose but the setters of the trap were already upon him. Bandits.

Hubert screamed in shock as a particularly big one lifted him straight up by the ankle and shook him out. All his things fell on the ground while the laughter of his captors filled his ears. “Let me go,” Hubert yelled as he ineffectively kicked and punched. He was obliged, and fell right back into the bush.

The bandits laughed as they watched, “Little gutter rat lost in the woods, you’re a long way from Enbarr.”

“How did you know I’m from Enbarr?” He began to pick the thorns out of his skin.

“Your accent,” said the apparent leader of the bandits as he looked Hubert over. Hubert’s hand curled into a fist as he watched the others picking through his worthless possessions. One of the thieves picked up the pegasus, and locked eyes with Hubert as he snapped the wings right off.

“Hey!” Hubert ran towards him in a blind rage but was promptly caught.

“What shall we do with this little rat? Hmm? Ransom him back to Enbarr?” The leader seemed highly amused by Hubert’s attempt at a show of strength.

“Fuck that,” grunted one of the thieves. “Enbarr needs to cool down.”

“Shall we keep him around for a little _entertainment_?”

“I’m not your jester,” sneered Hubert, perhaps with too much bravery, as he punched. These bandits put his father to shame with how hard they hit. The next thing he knew he was looking at the sky, fully sprawled out on the ground, with a whole bunch of bandits laughing their heads off.

At least they were loud. That drew the attention of the very pissed off soldiers sent to collect Hubert. The bandits didn’t laugh so hard with lances through their chests.

One of the soldiers sat Hubert on a tree stump as he asked him to follow his finger with his eyes to check him for a concussion. He did some healing spells and gave Hubert a sympathetic look before glancing out at the carnage. “This could have turned out a lot worse for you.”

His grandfather was dead. His uncle was dead. His best friend was gone. Hubert felt like his limbs had been broken off one by one. His throat was hot and tight as he tried to swallow. He wondered what ‘worse for him’ looked like.

The healer soldier turned back to him and sighed at Hubert’s disheveled and beat down appearance, “If anyone asks, you bravely fought us off. But in the end you’re just eleven and no match for Adrestia’s finest.”

Adrestia’s finest… _murders_. Hubert couldn’t even muster a frown as he was set on a horse and led back to the city.

His father was furious when Hubert came back stinking and bloodied. “You could have gotten yourself killed, or worse!” Hubert vaguely wondered what sort of things were worse than being killed. His father shook his head, “I don’t understand you.”

If Hubert had any fight left in him he would have spit back, _“I don’t understand you either!”_ However he just felt like the pegasus figurine he’d saved, broken.

***

His father married a woman from a family with a crest. Agatha, who would not talk to Robert unless she had to, watched Hubert while his father honeymooned in the Alliance. “The Vestras don’t have crests,” muttered Agatha as Hubert helped her in the kitchen. She was no longer living in the palace. She had been given Robert’s old home in Enbarr while Robert was gifted a Hresvelg owned estate near Enbarr. “The Vestras don’t have land.”

Hubert could only nod along to what she was saying. Hubert didn’t talk much any more unless he had to. His step mother found him to be sullen and disrespectful, which he completely was, but within the year she had a new baby to distract herself with. He taught dark magic to himself from a tome in their ridiculously large garden. He missed Edelgard but he had no way to even send her a letter. He schemed about going to the School of Sorcery in Fhridiad to try to find her. His father enrolled him into a fancy secondary school in Enbarr instead.

Hubert had the misfortune of being very far behind his peers since his schooling had always been so fragmented, and he found himself as the sole thirteen year old in a class of mostly eleven year olds. He felt huge compared to his classmates, and he was the only one with a mustache which he quickly learned to shave because it was just one more thing to make fun of him for. The only good thing was that he got to live with his grandmother during the week and only had to see his father and Robert’s new growing family on holidays.

Hubert wore his boring gray and red uniform without any extra flourishes like some of the other students, and let his black hair grow messily to his ears. He was always getting written up for how it hung in his face, but his grandmother just let him look how he wanted. He wanted to blend into the wall. He did his assignments in silence and was generally everyone’s least favorite pick for partnered activities or sports. He didn’t have friends.

Hubert preferred the back corner of the classroom because from there he could watch everyone and mostly be out of sight. In his second year at the school, a new student joined the class mid year. “This is Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg, and she will be in our class, please welcome her.”

Everyone was super polite as Edelgard did her little curtsy, even though they would all be whispering about her later at lunch. Hubert stared because he couldn’t believe it was really her. She looked so different from when he’d seen her that last horrible time. Older yes, but her hair was almost white it was so blond. She was the smallest member of the class and she looked like she belonged with the first years. She looked around the class, right at him, and showed no recognition as she took her seat.

Hubert watched her the entire period and barely paid attention to the lesson. Ferdinand von Annoying took it upon himself to show the princess around. Hubert followed the pair from a distance as Ferdinand proudly pointed out every feature of the campus. Half the students were from across the empire, and boarded here, while the others just lived in Enbarr. Ferdinand was sure he knew the campus better than anyone, and that if Edelgard had any questions she should ask him. She was silent. Hubert continued to follow her all day until she was waiting patiently for her escort back to the palace.

Hubert wasn’t sure what to do and he felt extremely stupid hiding behind a bush. He tried a whisper, “El?”

She turned and glared at him, “You do not have permission to call me that.”

“It’s me, Hubert,” he said in disbelief that she didn’t know him. It was literally his nightmare come true. He stepped out from behind the bush in the hopes that his full appearance would help jog her memory.

She looked like she was going to cry for a moment before she turned around and continued to wait for her ride back to the palace. Hubert edged closer to loom beside her, “Lady Edelgard, we’ve known each other for years.”

“He’s not that tall,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

Hubert didn’t know what to do as he sat down on the ledge. Edelgard wouldn’t look at him, “Please go loiter somewhere else, you are bothering me.”

“El, I mean Lady Edelgard, I used to be your best friend.”

“I don’t have any friends,” said Edelgard in a flat tone.

“I don’t either,” blurted out Hubert. He’d never had any other friends, he’d only had her.

Edelgard was gripping the handle of her little child sized briefcase and staring at her patent leather shoes.

“What do you remember about, um, before the Insurrection?” Even saying the word made him ill.

Edelgard said nothing. Hubert chewed on his lip and wondered what would stick out, “Do you remember the kite stuck up in the tree? We used to go camping near the lake with my uncle and your brothers, and one time we flipped over in a little row boat. We went to the beach, and watched pegasus! You still love pegasus right—”

“Please stop,” whispered Edelgard. Her lip trembled as she looked at him, “I don’t remember you, and I-I don’t remember the things you’re talking about. Please leave me alone or I’m getting a guard to get rid of you.” Hubert ran home.

Hubert’s grandmother was accustomed at this point to seeing Hubert come home and promptly flop on his bed to cry but today was worse than usual. Agatha sat with him while he sobbed about it. “Sometimes when very bad things happen to people they forget things,” said Agatha as her bony fingers gently massaged his scalp.

“Then why do I have to remember everything,” mumbled Hubert into Agatha’s leg. His memory was excellent, and it was a curse because no bad thing that had happened would leave him alone.

“You’re just going to have to re-befriend her,” said Agatha.

Hubert looked up at his grandmother in disbelief, “No one wants to be my friend, why will she after I’ve just bothered her so much?”

Agatha watched Hubert with a mix of pity and mischief, “Figure out who bothers her more, and unite against them.” Agatha might not have been born a Vestra, but she had become one in her thirty-five years of marriage to Bertram. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend._

Hubert took her advice and zeroed in on Edelgard’s chief botherer: _Ferdinand von Asshole_. Hubert was patient and observant as he learned Ferdinand’s habits around Edelgard. A boast here, a one-up there, and occasional awful reminders of how Enbarr had been improved while she was away. Hubert pounced in the dining room one lunch as Edelgard held her tray and stared dead-eyed at Ferdinand waving her over. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Hubert launched his offensive, “He’s insufferable isn’t he?”

Edelgard looked up at him in surprise. She said nothing. Hubert smirked, “It’ll drive him crazy if you don’t sit with him you know.”

“Yes but then I will have to sit alone,” said Edelgard with a hint of defeat in her voice.

“Sit with me,” said Hubert as he nodded towards the door to the courtyard.

“You eat outside?”

Hubert ate outside because sitting by himself inside the dining room for everyone to see was extremely embarrassing. He sat out there in all seasons and all weather. For the first time in two years he didn’t eat his lunch alone, nor would he at school ever again.

Memories were funny things that came back in bits and pieces. Hubert learned over time never to force a point with Edelgard and to always praise the clarity of what little she had. “I remember you were obsessed with becoming a pegasus knight,” said Edelgard to tease him.

Hubert thought of the broken pegasus wing he carried around in his pocket and rubbed when he got nervous, “Excellent memory as usual Lady Edelgard.”

As he became her new friend, she slowly began to remember her old one. Over the years her trust in him grew back and took root stronger than ever. In time she even shared what she remembered of the dark mages and the fates of her siblings. He knew they were dead, but he hadn’t known how. The truth, including his father’s involvement, shook him to the core. It broke him to know she survived such things.

The wronged needed revenge. A conspirator needed a fixer. An emperor needed council. A fortress knight needed a shield. A Hresvelg needed a Vestra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had this and the previous chapter spaced out, but I changed my outline and felt like they should be posted together. There will be a similarly structured set of chapters for Mercedes (broken into a before leaving the Bartels and after, as that is as defining a moment in her life as the Insurrection is for Hubert). I am…not enjoying writing Baron von Bartels. And my local store is all out of brain bleach so that keeps getting pushed further down the outline.


	6. Rise of Adrestia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attack on Garreg Mach leaves the Blue Lions fragmented and scattered

Mercedes was breathing loudly. It was as if she could not get enough air as she listened to the Adrestian army in their clanking black armor approaching Garreg Mach. Most of the Adrestian students were with Edelgard, the _Flame Emperor_. Not everyone had defected from the safety of Garreg Mach though. Bernadetta had literally hidden in her room and was still there now, sobbing. Ingrid was pounding on her door trying to get her to join the battle, “You’re going to die in here if you don’t fight!”

“Good!” yelled back Bernadetta from behind her barricaded door. “Better in my room than some big stupid field!”

Ingrid groaned and kicked the door to no avail. Mercedes frowned, “You can’t force her to fight.”

“I can try,” grumbled Ingrid as she followed behind Mercedes as they hustled to get to a place to take their stand. Annette quickly fell in with them with her axe and a grim look. Her eyes were huge with fear as they approached the outer walls of the monastery to prepare for battle. Claude and Dimitri didn’t look nearly as scared as Mercedes thought they ought too. Dimitri looked frenzied, and Claude seemed to be too busy analyzing the situation to put on his fake smile he wore so often. However Claude was at least cognizant that he needed to be directing the Golden Deer students in the absence of their professor, while Dimitri had no such focus for the Blue Lions. They were on their own.

“Oh no, is that professor Byleth with them?” asked Annette in disbelief as she stood up on her tip toes to look at the approaching forces. It made sense that Byleth had stood with their Black Eagles, but that didn’t explain where Manuela or Hanneman had ended up. Had they fled rather than fight? Mercedes doubted they would abandon their students but they were nowhere to be seen. An arrow, a warning, dinged the wall just below where Annette was looking. She dropped down in shock, “Oh my gosh! That was Ashe, Ashe is with them!”

Ashe’s family had been destroyed by the actions of the Western Church. Mercedes was not surprised to see him down there marching. She knew if he wanted it, that arrow would have been buried in Annette’s skull. He’d missed on purpose but he probably wouldn’t miss again when the battle really picked up. Could Mercedes really face a friend in battle? She was going to find out.

“This is fucked up,” said Sylvain as he and Felix made it to the wall. Sylvain peered over and grimaced as he gripped his lance. His flirty bravado was gone, leaving only the serious warrior behind.

Felix said nothing. He was staring at Dimitri, who was getting way too close to the front of the Church’s forces as they prepared to meet Edelgard’s troops. Dedue was with him, and trying to urge him to move back. Mercedes always admired Dedue’s fierce loyalty, but right now she was scared it was going to get him killed.

Mercedes also spied Ferdinand on his own looking especially grave as he prepared to fight his former classmates. Mercedes had heard that Edelgard had arrested his father, and Bernadetta’s too. No wonder those two had stayed when the rest of the Black Eagles had followed after their house leader. She wondered if Ferdinand, brave noble Ferdinand, would be able to strike down someone like Linhardt or Caspar after spending the last year as their friend.

Mercedes looked back out at their enemies, cautiously lest an arrow hit her, and finally saw Hanneman and Maneula in the ranks of the Empire. Hanneman! Hanneman was the Blue Lions’ professor, how could he fight his own students like this? Yet the answer was clear, they were both Adrestians from Enbarr. Part of Mercedes wondered if the others thought she belonged with them, with Adrestia, with her homeland. She shook that thought away. No one was going to think she wasn’t loyal to the Church. All the years she spent in Adrestia were miserable, and Fhirdiad was the only place she called home.

“He’s insane,” said Felix under his breath. No one had to ask who ‘he’ was. Felix’s eyes never left Dimitri until Edelgard emerged in her armor and regalia. She was flanked by a fearsome crew featuring imperial generals that Mercedes did not recognize, and students that she did. Caspar and Petra were on either side of Edelgard looking like real warriors and not simple students in a mock battle. Dorothea could be seen with Linhardt right behind her. Then there was Mercedes’ own estranged brother Jeritza, the Death Knight, back for the fight. When he’d run off from Garreg Mach after his failed attempts to kidnap poor Flayn, Mercedes assumed that was the last she’d see of him. Yet there he was with Hubert, and none of this surprised her at all. She didn’t want to see her brother die, but she also didn’t want to see him win this battle. Her heart was being stretched in a thousand directions right now and threatening to rip.

She was surprised by Edelgard’s booming words, somehow amplified by magic no doubt, as she spoke her manifesto. Edelgard offered them the chance to defect, but no one was budging. She accused Rhea of being a cruel beast, a thing that had fabricated miracles and enslaved humanity. She called those that followed Seiros blind and Mercedes bristled with anger. It was not until late in the battle when Rhea transformed into what Edelgard had accused her of being that Mercedes really opened her eyes to wonder if anything she believed in was true.

Fires were raging in the village that surrounded Garreg Mach. Mercedes dodged out of the way as a building crumbled. The fires were so hot the mortar holding everything together was literally melting away. Mercedes was tapped out from casting black magic for the last hour and she had no more energy to spare on a spell. She was dusty and bloodied, and finding it hard to breathe with the all the smoke and dust kicking up in the air. She leaned against a structure that was still standing as she tried to press forward. Mercedes stumbled as the ground shook as part of the monastery was destroyed by Rhea herself. Maybe Edelgard wasn’t quite so off base when she called Rhea a cruel beast. This battle was lost and calls were sounding for retreat.

Mercedes looked back towards Garreg Mach to see the Blue Lions scattering in confusion. She’d long ago gotten separated from Annette and the others. She saw Claude directing his Golden Deer to safety. Dedue was physically pulling Dimitri from the fight though the prince clearly did not wish to retreat. However none of it mattered much to Mercedes. They were too far away for her to safely reach. She was lightheaded for want of a deep breath not filled with hot dust and blood as her mind raced to make a decision about what to do.

She caught sight of Felix, Felix was still out here too! Mercedes started to stumble in his direction until she realized he was joining the Empire. He was surrendering himself and defecting. Mercedes tripped in her surprise. She coughed as she hit the cobblestones. The air wasn’t so bad down here on the ground but her lungs were still screaming for oxygen. Her head was swimming from her exhaustion and she was finding it difficult to get back up.

She was vaguely aware of someone armored picking her up. The face of death looked down upon her. Her brother had decided to save her. Mercedes didn’t even get to say thank you before she passed out. She wasn’t sure she should.

When Mercedes came to, she was restrained in the infirmary of Garreg Mach. It was night and the infirmary was weakly lit. Her skin felt absolutely disgusting with how grimy it was and her hands were bound so tightly that they were freezing from lack of blood flow. Her lips were dry and cracked as she groaned trying get anyone’s attention.

The attention she caught was Hubert’s. He looked tired and disheveled and clearly hadn’t taken a break since the battle ceased. It appeared he was doing some sort of count of the injured when he heard her struggling. Mercedes tried to look as weak as she could, “May I please have some water?”

He nodded and brought her some. He looked at her restraints and then awkwardly sat to the side of her trying to tip the cup into her mouth. He succeeded in dumping most of the glass of water upon her face. Mercedes sputtered in shock. “Can you just untie me please so that I can sit up?” It hurt to speak her throat was so parched.

Hubert looked reluctantly at her bindings and then at the quiet infirmary. The others here were still in bad shape and passed out. There were no other Adrestian soldiers there in case she tried something. Mercedes did her best to look as helpless as possible, “Please Hubert, I can’t feel my fingers.”

He frowned as he touched her icy hands, and relented, “Fine.” He carefully undid the bindings and helped her to sit up. Her hands shook as she held the glass to her lips. The water was the most refreshing thing she’d had in a long time. Mercedes shut her eyes and took a deep breath, only to begin a coughing fit.

“If you need it,” said Hubert as he passed her a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” mumbled Mercedes. She paused as she held it and began to envision her escape as dropped the cloth, “Oops, how clumsy of me.”

Hubert leaned down to pick it up from the floor and Mercedes took her chance to bash the back of his head with her glass. It shattered into his skull and backward into her hand but she didn’t care about the pain. Hubert fell forward with a startled cry and Mercedes bolted towards the door. Her legs were wobbly and she felt the gravity of her miscalculation as she tried to stumble free. She didn’t get far before a well placed Miasma spell struck her down from behind.

When Mercedes woke up in the infirmary a second time she was hogtied in a bed and her back was screaming in pain with every move she made. Her hand still had glass in it but was bandaged to stop the bleeding. She’d been laid her on her side and her new view was Hubert facing her as Manuela set to the unpleasant task of picking shards of glass out of his scalp by lamp light. He scowled at Mercedes in pain as their eyes met. She didn’t get to say anything because she’d been gagged.

Another bit of glass pinged into the metal dish Manuela was using to collect the pieces. “I think I have to shave your head, I can’t see shit with all your hair in the way.”

“Just do it,” said Hubert as he shut his eyes. Manuela grimaced as she trimmed away almost all the hair on the back of his head.

“She really got you good,” said Manuela as more glass came out. Hubert only grunted in response. When Manuela was satisfied she’d gotten all the tiny shards out she did a healing spell. She helped Hubert sit up and bit her lip at his appearance. His hair was a comical mess at the moment. “It’s just hair, it’ll grow back.” Hubert sighed and took the razor Manuela had been using and started to trim it haphazardly. The result was his hair taken up very short on the back and the sides, with his bangs mostly left intact. It barely looked better and little bits that had been cut too short were now standing straight up as if he had little demon horns. _How fitting_ , thought Mercedes.

Hubert spared a glare towards Mercedes before he settled onto his cot and faced away from her. The back of his head looked nasty. Head wounds bled a lot, and the whole neck of his shirt was stained red. Mercedes wasn’t sure whether to be shocked she was capable of such violence, or proud she had fought her captor so effectively.

Manuela had come back with a vulnerary for Mercedes. She shuddered as she was moved by two soldiers to be upright as Manuela carefully undid the gag and tipped the potion down Mercedes’ throat. She hated the feeling that came with using a healing potion. Healing spells were nice and warm little acts of love. Healing potions were icy and made her skin crawl. Her back lit up with intense pain as the burn left by the Miasma strike started to repair itself.

Some of the glass popped out of her hand thanks to the potion, but not all of it. Manuela grimaced as she sanitized her tools with alcohol and got to work picking out the rest of the pieces still sunk into Mercedes’ flesh. She wasn’t going to be casting anything with that hand anytime soon.

Manuela grumbled at the restrains, mumbling that it was excessive, and quietly helped to wash Mercedes’ face of the blood and dust coating her. The soldiers keeping close watch over her clearly did not think the ropes were excessive. They returned her to a resting position when Manuela was done and did not untie her.

“What if I have to use the bathroom?” Mercedes demanded.

“Hold it,” said one soldier indifferently as they left her stuck in the bed.

Mercedes sighed and assessed her present situation. She laughed under her breath as she thought about finally being reunited with her brother, only to end up a prisoner.

“What are you laughing about?” Hubert’s voice was exhausted and annoyed as he rolled to face her.

Mercedes kept her lips firmly shut as she stared at him. Looking at him made her furious, “I’m not sorry about your head.” It was strange to not feel any remorse about it; she was used to praying for forgiveness after school missions when she’d hurt someone. Bandits were people too after all, yet right now, she didn’t feel bad about hurting anyone in the Adrestian army.

Hubert closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “When you are cleared from the infirmary you can look forward to a long stay in the dungeon.”

“What happened to Felix?”

Hubert’s eyes cracked open as he glared at her, “You are not in a position to be asking questions.”

“What kind of position am I in?” Mercedes wanted to know what exactly the Adrestians were planning to do with their prisoners. Was she looking forward to torture, execution? Would be conscripted to fight? She wouldn’t do it, they’d have to kill her. That was daunting to consider. Maybe she would though because she did enjoy being alive.

“You appear to be in a very compromised one,” said Hubert as he stared at her bindings.

Mercedes glared at him, and twisted against her restraints, “Oh, does this turn you on?” She had never heard her own voice ring so bitter.

“No,” said Hubert unaffected by her taunting. “Now please, people are trying to sleep.”

“Too bad,” started Mercedes. Hubert got up from his bed and put her gag back on against her protests.

“You have given me a terrible headache, now you will be silent,” said Hubert as he looked down at her.

Mercedes attempted a muffled, “ _No I won’t_ ,” but it was incomprehensible. Hubert got back onto his cot and rolled away from her and her angry stare.

When she was cleared from the infirmary the next afternoon she found herself being led to the dungeon of Garreg Mach by her classmates turned enemies.

“May I please stop by my room?” Mercedes couldn’t muster a nice voice at the moment. Her hands were in shackles and Hubert was leading her along while Petra kept her hand on her sword. Mercedes clothes were trashed from the battle and the Miasma strike, and she wasn’t thrilled to be in drafty rags down here. Plus she had cats to check on!

Hubert glowered, “No.”

Mercedes frowned. She was worried for her kittens. They were big enough now to eat solid foods and she had left what she could for them before the battle started, but she hadn’t been in her room for a full day and they needed to eat! They were probably old enough to go free now the snows had melted, but if she didn’t get there soon, no kittens were going anywhere. “Please? I need to feed my cats.”

She felt Hubert’s hand tense, “You’re keeping cats in your room?”

“They were getting snowed on,” said Mercedes in her defense. What, was Hubert going to keep enforcing Seteth’s dorm rules?

“How many cats are presently locked in your room?”

Mercedes winced as she did the mental count, “Um, five.”

Hubert stopped in his tracks, “Of all the irresponsible—”

“They’re small cats!” said Mercedes as she held up her hands in her shackles to mime the size. “They were kittens, what would have me do? Let them die?”

Hubert looked like he had a migraine as he continued to lead her down to the dungeons. “Someone will see to your cats.”

“They can be let out, I think they’re old enough to be on their own,” said Mercedes quietly. Goodbye Sniffles, farewell Fishkins, adieu Ms. Prim, toodle-oo Tuna, so long Morfis Plum. Good luck, thanks for all the cuddles.

Petra drew her sword as they prepared to open the door to the cell. Hubert put Mercedes inside and locked her in before he made her put her hands up so he could unshackle her. It was tight; the cell was barely the width of her arm span and not especially long. There was a bunk and a hole in the floor that Mercedes quickly figured out was her toilet. The whole place stank of human waste, unclean bodies, and mold. There was no privacy between the cells, but at least Mercedes had a corner unit. It was the little things right now that she had to cling to.

Mercedes let out a long sigh when Petra and Hubert were gone. “I see you survived,” said a familiar bitter voice from the next cell over.

“I saw you surrender,” said Mercedes to Felix. She tried her best to keep her tone even and not show her hurt over the fact that he could do such a thing.

“Some good it did me,” muttered Felix as he sat up on his bunk to look at her. “I’m, um, I’m glad you made it out okay.”

Felix could be a real jerk, but he wasn’t a bad person. Somehow that made this worse. Mercedes said nothing and face planted onto the lumpy mattress on the cell bunk. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted a bath. She wanted clean clothes. All she could really do was pray, but as she put her hands together she found that the Adrestians had taken that too. What was Rhea really, and what was true?

Mercedes shut her eyes. Truth was the Goddess’ love. Maybe supernatural miracles weren’t real, and maybe the specifics of church doctrine weren’t totally on the mark, but Mercedes would never deny that the church helped people. It helped her. It shielded her, sheltered her, and raised her when her world felt like it was ending. She thought of all the poor displaced people that had come to Garreg Mach for refuge only to be attacked by the Adrestians. It just wasn’t fair.

What had become of people like Cyril? She hoped he got away. The knights of Seiros? Had they all been able to retreat? Mercedes didn’t even have a pillow to hug down here in this horrible prison. Besides, her grief wasn’t even allowed to blossom as another prisoner was led to a cell.

“Why, why can’t I just stay under room arrest!” Bernadetta was being carried by Caspar.

“Bernie, I don’t make the rules, it’s only for like a couple hours while we sort everything out,” said Caspar, clearly uncomfortable with his task.

“Pretend you never saw me! Just let me get away!”

Caspar deposited Bernadetta on her temporary bunk and shut her in her cell. “I’ll be back soon, I’ll bring you some stuff!” Bernadetta curled up into a fetal position. Caspar hung onto the bars, “I’ll, um, I’ll get your bear!” Bernadetta started to sob and Caspar practically ran to go fetch it.

“This is outrageous,” Ferdinand’s voice carried through the cell block.

“You’re outrageous,” Dorothea retorted.

“Linhardt, how can you be supporting this coup? You’re a pacifist,” complained Ferdinand as he was led to his own cell.

Linhardt looked absolutely exhausted. “I’m supporting it because my father is supporting it.”

“How brave of you,” sneered Ferdinand with utter contempt for his old classmate. Ferdinand’s hands were shackled and he had big tears in his uniform with bandages visible underneath. He had clearly fought hard against them.

“I respect my father’s decision, and besides, what would become of me if I abandoned the Empire? Edelgard supports my research,” said Linhardt. “This was the most logical choice.”

“Just because something is logical doesn’t make it just!” Ferdinand’s shackles were not undone. He sat on his bunk cross legged with perfect posture as he glared at his jailers. Hours passed with no change as the light faded. Eventually they were brought dinner by Dorothea and Caspar.

“Do you know if my cats were okay?” asked Mercedes as she got her questionably cooked bowl of stew.

Dorothea nodded, “Yeah, Hubert was shooing them out with a broom, they didn’t want to leave so they were just kind of laying on the ground while he swept them out. I thought it was cute.” Dorothea sighed as she handed Mercedes a spoon through the bars, “But then we had to go through every dorm room to check for pets, and lets just say you having five cats was not the weirdest thing I saw. Ignatz had so many turtles!”

“Any idea when we’re getting out of here?” asked Felix.

Dorothea glanced over at him, the two were kind of bristly towards each other, and scowled, “What do I look like, a clock?”

It was not until the next morning that they started to get pulled from their cells. Once taken, no one returned. Mercedes was the last out. She found herself led towards the green house for what turned out to be an interview.

“I can’t seem to get away from you can I?” said Mercedes as she stared at Hubert. He had clearly been able to get cleaned up and replaced his clothes, but there was no hiding the coffee stains on his teeth and the bags beneath his eyes. She’d be surprised if he’d slept at all since leaving the infirmary. He gave a signal and Mercedes found herself unshackled and presented with some food and water.

“Do not worry, you won’t see much of me. I prefer to run most of Lady Edelgard’s operations from behind the scenes,” said Hubert as he began to write something in a notebook. He had other notebooks and various stacks of paper spread out on a table that had been brought in. He pulled a file free and laid it out.

“Is that a file on me?” Mercedes asked between spoonfuls of oatmeal. It was incredibly bland and could have truly used a pinch of brown sugar, or fruit, or anything sweet but she was so hungry she didn’t care.

“Indeed, I have files on everyone from the officer’s academy,” said Hubert as he pulled some papers free of their folio. “Mercedes von Martritz, born 1157 in Adrestia in the home of Baron von Bartels. You and your half brother share the crest of Lamine, from your mother, and you spent ages ten to nineteen in Fhirdiad. Is that correct?”

Mercedes only nodded because she wasn’t sure what to even say. It was creepy to know that he was keeping such close tabs on everyone. She wondered how detailed his notes were.

“And how do you feel about fighting for your homeland, for the Empire?” asked Hubert as he stared at her.

“I won’t,” said Mercedes flatly.

Hubert scribbled something in his notebook and pursed his lips as he looked at some other papers, “How do you feel about being a healer for the Empire?”

“I don’t want to serve the Empire,” said Mercedes slowly so that there would be no more questions on the same line.

Hubert hummed with indifference, “You were captured, you’re not in a position to negotiate. So either you can wallow down in the dungeon, or you can accept this generous offer—”

“Generous? Forcing me to fight against everything I believe in? How is that generous?”

Hubert licked his teeth with annoyance at the interruption, “Well, the other option is to let you meet your precious goddess. Is that what you would prefer?”

Mercedes’ lips tightly closed. Hubert drew in a sharp breath and straightened up, “I did not think so. You can either work in our infirmary and enjoy the freedom to move around the monastery with minimal restrictions, or you can elect to remain a prisoner in the dungeon. However, we’re not really in position to keep prisoners here for long, and I cannot guarantee what will happen to you if you choose that option.”

Mercedes’ eyes narrowed, “What do minimal restrictions look like?”

“You can go anywhere within the walls of the monastery, and I suppose you could request an escort to go to the village,” said Hubert. “That could be a privilege we could look into.”

“You’d let me in the Cathedral?”

“If you wish to go there then yes,” said Hubert. “Although Rhea substantially remodeled the place with her foot, so you may not find it very comforting.”

Mercedes shut her eyes and considered praying in her gross dungeon cell compared to having the freedom to roam, and perhaps escape, if she agreed to this conscription. She opened her eyes and stared at Hubert, “Fine. I’ll be a healer for you.”

“Wonderful,” said Hubert, although his tone betrayed no satisfaction. She got the sense he didn’t care either way what she chose as he marked off various little forms. “Just one more question.” Hubert carefully looped a ribbon into his notebook to save his spot before closed it and set his pen down. “Why did you kiss me on the night of the ball?”

The reason was that she was feeling spontaneous and a little lonely that night. She had been wanting someone to dance with and as if the Goddess heard her, there he was to fill the role. Now she was feeling angry and that he would even dare bring it up. She wished she could take it back, “I didn’t have a reason, and if I could undo it I would.” He had warned her she would hate him, and she wished she had just believed him at the time.

Hubert studied her for a moment, then nodded and passed her the key to her room. Mercedes snatched it and eagerly escaped to her dorm. She might have still been at Garreg Mach but this place now felt foreign with all the Adrestian troops about the place.

She went to the sauna, which no longer felt that relaxing, and washed away the last evidence of the battle from her skin. She gathered up her damaged clothes and set to cleaning and repairing them to distract herself from this new reality. When she went to the dining hall for dinner she sat alone rather than with Felix or Ashe who had chosen this path. To her surprise though, she wasn’t alone for long. Ferdinand came first, “I think you might be the only friendly face in here.”

Bernadetta was next, driven by hunger and strict changes to after hours access to the dining hall. “Hubert told me that I could either join or go home to live under house arrest with my father, can you believe that?”

A dark look passed over Ferdinand’s face as he glanced at Edelgard and Hubert, who were sitting with the core group of traitors — Dorothea, Petra, Linhardt, and Caspar — like a little court of warmongers. “Of course I believe it, what I’m having trouble with is the rest of them following this madness.” Mercedes said nothing but tried to hold onto the idea that this couldn’t possibly last too long. Surely the kingdom would mobilize behind the Church and perhaps the Alliance would join them. She only hoped she’d survive to see the Empire fall.

***

Annette let out a small shuddering sigh as she watched the tiny camp fire. Her uniform was dirty and torn, and the only thing she had now was her stupid iron axe. She rested her chin on her fists and shivered. She thought her father leaving home was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, but now the stupid Empire attacking school was definitely the worst. Felix and Mercedes were both either prisoners…or dead. Annie squeezed her eyes shut and wished she could wake up from this nightmare.

They were camping in the mountains north of Garreg Mach. This was Kingdom territory, but who knew what was out here. They hadn’t seen anyone since fleeing from the attack and this was a dangerous place to be. They kept their voices low as they discussed the battle and what they’d seen. Annie tried not to think about watching the Death Knight picking up Mercedes after she passed out. Annie wished she had been closer so she could have chucked her stupid axe at his stupid head to save her friend.

“Felix wouldn’t surrender to them,” said Sylvain confidently.

“I’m telling you that’s what it looked like,” said Ingrid. “He gave them his sword! He just handed it right over.”

Annie didn’t want to believe it, but she also didn’t see it for herself. Felix was really mad about Dimitri, everyone knew that, and maybe he had decided to side against the prince. Dimitri had been acting really scary in the battle, and they had no idea what had happened to him afterward. Hopefully wherever he was, Dedue was at his side.

“Then he must have had a reason, maybe he wanted to actually survive to see another day,” suggested Sylvain. Ingrid gave him a harsh look and Annie understood. Glenn Fraldarius hadn’t surrendered, and Glenn had not lived to see another day. Annie didn’t know all the specifics, but it was clear that Ingrid and Felix had both been hugely affected by Glenn’s death and in different ways. Ingrid took pride in Glenn’s sacrifice, but Felix just clearly wanted his brother back.

Annie wanted to cry but no tears came. Her body was just exhausted and her mind was racing with all the things that had just happened. Most of all, her thoughts kept circling back to her friends, “We need to rescue them.”

Sylvain and Ingrid looked at her in surprise. She hadn’t said anything in hours. Ingrid folded her arms as her stomach growled, “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere close to Garreg Mach. The place is locked down.”

“We can go to Gautier lands, we’ll regroup and recover,” said Sylvain. “We can make a real plan, maybe get help.”

“That’s too far,” argued Ingrid. “It would take us weeks, if not months, to walk there. If we go anywhere we go to Galatea.”

The Dominic lands were far too, laying north of Fhirdiad. Home was safe, but home was far from Mercedes. Annie put on her bravest face, “We shouldn’t go too far from Garreg Mach.”

“Or we should go as far as possible, who knows where they’re going to go next,” said Sylvain.

The thought left Annie cold. This wasn’t over, this was just the beginning. She took a deep breath and looked up at the pair. “We need to get our family relics.”

Sylvain laughed uneasily, “Uh, excuse me?”

Annette stood and smacked her fist against her open palm, “Crusher, Luin, Lance of Ruin. We need to go get them, come back, and rescue Mercie and Felix.”

“And like, maybe we get some reinforcements too,” threw out Sylvain.

“And food,” said Ingrid under her breath. Annie ignored their grumbling and put a hand out like they used to do before a mission or mock battle. Ingrid put one in and Sylvain put both his hands in. They all ended up saying different things as they lifted them, but the mood was the same, someone had to do something and it was falling to them.


	7. The Siblings Lamine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of life for Mercedes and Emile in the house of the Bartels
> 
> Content Warning for Baron von Bartels (grooming behaviors, physical and implied sex abuse, people hunting)

**1157**

_Mercedes_. The Baron Gerhard von Bartels had suggested the name when Sabina’s daughter was born. Mercies, a wage, a reward, a pity. His sweet little crested compensation for taking them in. Sabina von Martritz, no, now Sabina von Bartels saw little of her late husband in their daughter’s features and perhaps that was a very good thing in this new place they found themselves in.

She had been born Sabina Vera Lamine of the Kingdom of Faerghus. Her youth was spent in Fhirdiad after her family’s decline through time. They no longer held lands like other descendants of the ten elites, and her parents had died when she was young leaving her to be raised by a string of relations that bounced her back and forth around the capital. She felt lucky when she was arranged by her cousins to marry Baron von Martritz because her husband was kind. So kind that it got him killed.

The policies of Ionius IX were beginning to put a choke hold on the nobility in the Empire. As with all great ripples, it was the smallest and least of the noble houses that felt the wave first and hardest. Perhaps the fancy elite of Enbarr barely felt the shift, but throughout the empire houses were falling prey to each other and imploding on themselves. The von Martritz family was not the wealthiest, and they were all fighting amongst each other over titles and lands. These squabbles turned deadly as Ionius IX continued to pull power towards Enbarr.

Baron von Martritz was assassinated and Sabina knew her child, his rightful heir, would be next. So she ran to her late husband’s sympathetic relation, Baron von Bartels, when he offered her shelter. She should have known that in Fodlan, nothing was offered for free. Mercedes had an inheritance that would require force to claim, but she also had something special and intrinsic to her. Sabina’s daughter had manifested the crest of Lamine, after generations of absence, and that was worth more than any tiny noble estate. Baron von Bartels offered Sabina an ultimatum: marry him, and she and her daughter would be well cared for. Refuse him, and she could try her luck in the outside world.

Sabina chose marriage. Sabina chose security. Sabina did not know it, but she had chosen a monster.

**1158**

Emile. _Rival_. Sabina had chosen his name as a private dark joke as her new husband elevated his youngest son to the position of heir ahead of all his older crestless son from a previous marriage, and ahead of his brother. Sabina had lived in many households growing up, and with nobles there were always relations visiting. The peskier the cousin or uncle or what have you, the less likely they were to leave. The Bartels estate was constantly entertaining various family. Like leeches, the lot of them, they spent their time sucking off sustenance from a strong patriarch. Gerhard protected his family, but not for free; it was a country estate and if one stayed they were expected to contribute to the household. Sabina and the other women had the cooking and the chores, while the men protected the estate from wayward beasts and bandits, and tended to the fields.

Gerhard’s oldest son was sickly and weak, and Gerhard openly suggested he wasn’t going to survive the winter. His brother on the other hand was like Gerhard, big, strong, and always keeping his anger on a constant low simmer. He was a pesky relative that had no where else to go because Gerhard would not grant him the property he was owed. So he lurked. He lurked by laundry baskets watching the women, he lurked near the kitchens stealing the food, and he lurked by the stairs as if waiting to push his brother down them.

Sabina had lost one husband to fratricide. She didn’t love Gerhard like she had loved Mercedes’ father, but she wasn’t ready to pack up two little babies and flee yet again to parts unknown. Gerhard wasn’t nice and he wasn’t kind, but thankfully he wasn’t dumb on top of all that. “Your brother is going to make a move,” she whispered in their bed one evening not too long after Emile was born.

His hands found her in the darkness, big and brutal so much of the time, but now they were reserved and careful as he rested one upon her hip. “If he does, I’ll be moving him into a grave,” promised Gerhard in his deep and unforgiving voice. Her first husband was softer, weaker. Sabina could not say she found Gerhard’s company pleasant but at least he was favorable to look at. It made it easier to keep him sated, although right now this was risky for her. She still felt a little raw from the birth but here in this remote country estate, sex was the only power she had on her husband.

Mounting him was difficult because he was just so damn big in both body and in cock. She was grateful for the darkness obscuring her own expression as she guided him into her and began to ride. His hands did get a little rougher as he experienced pleasure from her agonizing throes. His hands grabbed at her — possessive and greedy — as he sped her movements up. She was too raw for this. “Promise me you won’t fall to him.”

“Fuck my brother,” grunted Gerhard. “Fuck his whining and his attempts to scheme.”

“What are you willing to do to stop him?” Sabina had met his ultimatum. She had given him a crested heir, now she needed assurances for herself and her children.

Gerhard flipped her suddenly and without asking onto her back and set his unforgiving pace, “I’ll kill him.”

Sabina didn’t want the blood of her brother in law on her hands, but she was sure there was blood being spilled between her legs right now. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a fucking promise,” said Gerhard as he spilled inside her. He gave her hips an appreciative squeeze before he got out of her. “Fuck, that was good, I’m glad you’re not pregnant still. It was hard not touching you near the end.”

Sabina sat up and hoped she was never pregnant again. If that apothecary down in the village was worth the price, she wouldn’t be. Then she could keep using sex to keep her husband tamed. She wasn’t old, only twenty, but having children had changed her body and made it more womanly. She saw how Gerhard looked at the younger maids around the estate, and she knew she needed to hold his gaze as fiercely as possible. She had to keep him hooked on her so that she wouldn’t be cast aside. Keep him happy, and he wouldn’t have a reason to hurt her or her children, that’s what Sabina told herself every time she kissed him.

Gerhard always made good on his threats. Her brother in law suffered an accident during the harvest. A wayward scythe found it’s way into his neck while they were bringing in the crops. Gerhard shrugged at the blood because he wasn’t going to waste the wheat. Sabina tried her best not to think about it as she ate the bread to make the milk to nurse her children.

**1161**

“Mercedes, get over here,” Gerhard’s voice cut across the field where she was playing. Mercedes looked up from where she’d just fallen into the ground from running after her brother Emile. She nodded and walked over her father. “Show me your hands.”

Mercedes obediently presented her hands, scraped and covered in dirt, for his appraisal. He frowned, “You need to be careful with yourself. You’re a girl, you have to keep yourself looking nice, not like your wild brother over there.”

Mercedes swallowed and nodded. Emile was constantly scraping himself up and getting bruised. Gerhard leaned in, “What do we say?”

“Yes father,” said Mercedes in her breathy high voice. The older children, her step siblings, liked to imitate her. She could not help the way she sounded, and it hurt her feelings.

“Come, let’s wash those off,” said Gerhard as he lifted her up and took her to the kitchen. He set her on the counter and looked at her scraped knees peeking out just beneath the hem of her skirt. “Do they hurt?”

Mercedes nodded because her scrapes stung. Gerhard gave her an ‘I told you so’ look, “So don’t be clumsy and you won’t hurt yourself.” Mercedes swallowed and nodded although she was extremely clumsy and she wasn’t sure she could obey that order. She wasn’t defying him on purpose, she just tripped a lot.

Gerhard used a wash towel and cleaned her off. Her scabs were already beginning to form. Emile appeared in the doorway and ran in and pounced on his father’s leg and pretended to gnaw on it. Gerhard looked down, “Emile. What are you doing?”

“I am a demonic beast,” announced Emile before actually biting his father’s leg. Gerhard swiftly slapped him on the side of the ear and Emile yelped, “What was that for!”

“Don’t bite, you’re heir of this family, act like it,” said Gerhard, his tone turning harsh for his son.

Emile stood and rubbed his red ear with a glower on his face. Gerhard gave Mercedes an exhausted look and patted her on the knee. “You are both special, do you understand why?”

Both Mercedes and Emile shook their heads and Gerhard gave them a somber look, “Both of you carry the crest of Lamine.” He picked up Emile and sat him down next to Mercedes. Gerhard folded his arms as he looked down at them, “Crests are incredibly important. They make families more powerful, so we want as many as we can get.” He put an hand on each child’s shoulders, “Your crests make the von Bartels a strong house that can stand on it’s own. That’s very important.” He opened a cabinet and pulled down the cookie jar, to give each of them one.

“Mother says we’re not allowed before dinner,” whispered Mercedes. Sabina knew her daughter had a serious sweet tooth, and was always on her not to ruin her real meals with sweets.

“I know,” said Gerhard. “Our secret though right?” The children both nodded as they ate their cookies.

Gerhard turned his attention from Mercedes’ little scrapes to Emile’s aggressive play. “Come Emile, I think you’re old enough for me to teach you to hunt demonic beasts.”

Emile’s eyes widened with excitement, “Really?”

The woods surrounding the estate were occasionally plagued by actual monsters. Gerhard was missing a chunk of his ear courtesy of one, but he was good at hunting them. “Someday you’re going to be the Baron von Bartels Emile, and you better not let a fucking demonic beast eat you. Don’t be weak.” He clapped Emile on the back just hard enough to show his strength but not hard enough to hurt his son.

“No fucking beast is going to get me,” announced Emile. Mercedes said nothing because she knew ‘fucking’ was definitely a word her mother was not going to like added to Emile’s vocabulary.

**1165**

The Baron might have told Mercedes and Emile that they were very special, but his older children didn’t seem to think so. Colette and Jeanne were daughters from Gerhard’s first marriage, and Louis the sickly son from the Baron’s second wife. The Baron’s older children shared his light brown hair and all had a sort dead look to their eyes. Colette was oldest, at 15, and would be married in the coming summer. Jeanne was only 13 but already she was being introduced to potential suitors. Louis, 9, had been heir until Emile. Now he was just a burden.

“Again,” said Gerhard as he watched Louis and Emile spar. Though they were several years apart in age, Emile was magnitudes better with a sword than Louis. His crest helped but it was his build, already big and strong for someone so young, that made him dominate his weakling half brother.

Louis looked up in disbelief while panting. Emile glanced back at his father as if to confirm the order. Gerhard nodded, “Louis, what do I do with you? You have no crest, you cannot fight, you have no fucking talents. How will you survive this world if you don’t get strong?”

Louis was often bruised and cut up from sparring with Emile. He never won. Gerhard licked his lips, “Emile, again.” Emile nodded and proceeded to beat Louis until the boy was unconscious.

Later Mercedes and Emile were playing as far as they could go from the house without getting in trouble. “That wasn’t very nice what you did to Louis,” said Mercedes.

Her brother looked up at her with the somewhat blank look he’d developed over the years, “Yes it was.”

Mercedes frowned, “You knocked him out.” It was definitely not nice no matter what Emile thought.

“I know, I knocked him out early, father doesn’t make him fight after he’s passed out,” said Emile in a matter of fact sort of way. He stared at his sister, “It was a mercy because he wanted to stop.” Mercedes did not agree but there was no point in arguing with Emile once he’d decided something. “Father’s right though.”

“Right about what?”

“Louis. He’s not going to survive like that. He’s not strong enough,” said Emile. He did not seem very sad over this, although Mercedes didn’t want to think about Louis dying. Their step brother wasn’t very nice, but Mercedes didn’t think that meant he should die. He was like an angry cornered animal, and he was cruel to his sisters because they were the only people he was stronger than. He wasn’t mean to Mercedes these days, but only because Emile had beaten the ever loving shit out of him the last time he’d pulled Mercedes’ hair.

Emile and Mercedes still shared a room at this age, though Mercedes was told she’d soon have her own. She’d miss sleeping in the same room as Emile, although he did smell a little when he got super sweaty and left his dirty clothes in little piles. She liked telling him ghost stories in the dark after they were supposed to be asleep, although annoyingly Emile didn’t seem to ever get scared even when she managed to scare herself.

Mercedes also felt safe knowing that Emile was in the room to protect her. Sometimes demonic beasts attacked the property taking livestock and the occasional person who was unfortunate enough to be walking to the outhouse when the beasts attacked. They had never gotten in the house, but, Mercedes felt better knowing if one did, Emile would give it hell.

In the middle of the night they were woken by Gerhard coming in with a candle, “Emile, wake up.”

Emile sat up and rubbed his eyes of sleep, “Why?”

“I’m taking you on a hunt,” said Gerhard as he tossed Emile some suitable clothes.

“It’s the middle of the night,” said Emile in confusion.

“Louis has finally grown the balls to run away, come on, we have to go catch him,” said Gerhard. Emile nodded and got ready, following his father from the room.

Mercedes nervously watched out from her window as she saw her step father and brother riding on their horses with torches. She hoped nothing bad would happen to her brother. In the morning Emile and the Baron rode back into the estate. Mercedes turned from feeding the chickens to greet them and was met with the sight of Louis’ corpse draped over the back of her brother’s horse. Her greeting died in her throat as she stared.

“Mercedes? No kiss for father?” asked Gerhard genially as he patted her head.

She looked up at him in shock. “Uh, um.” The Baron ruffled her hair and gestured for Emile to follow him into the stables. She stared at Louis’ broken face and the blood soaking his clothes.

Everyone was quiet at the dinner table that night. Louis’ chair had been removed. Gerhard ate as if nothing had happened. “Excellent aim last night Emile, you should be proud.”

Emile, stony faced as usual, nodded at his father. He continued to eat. Mercedes had no appetite. Gerhard looked at her full plate, “Mercedes, don’t waste food.” Mercedes compulsively stuffed her face even as it made her sick so that he would not have any reason to disfavor her.

**1166**

The next chair that left the table was Colette’s. Jeanne’s hands trembled as she braided her elder sister’s hair in preparation for the wedding. Mercedes stood silently holding the flowers that would be woven in.

Colette always had deep circles under her eyes from poor sleep. Her voice was sharp and strong like her father’s even though she looked like a wilted flower, “Jeanne, you must be brave now that I am leaving.” Colette’s eyes glanced towards Mercedes, “You might as well listen up too.” Colette did not hide her dislike of Mercedes, and was exceptionally mean to her at every chance, so Mercedes was surprised to be included in the conversation. Colette flared her nostrils as she sucked in a big breath, “When father visits your room at night you must not scream. If you do, he will cover your mouth and it will be painful. He will do what he wants regardless.”

Jeanne’s hands were trembling, “I don’t want him to come to my room.”

“Maybe he won’t, but if he does you must be prepared,” said Colette. Her voice was hardened and edged just like her father’s spear. “Just agree with him, praise him if he asks for it, because if you don’t, he will punish you. It is easier to just submit.”

Mercedes had no idea what they were talking about but it did not sound good. She was glad she shared a room with Emile.

Colette’s chair was removed from the dinner table and the seating arrangements were changed. Gerhard still sat at the head of the table, but now Jeanne and Mercedes were closest to him. Emile and Sabina were next to them. Over time, Jeanne’s eyes developed the same dark circles as Colette’s.

Colette’s old room was very nice but Mercedes didn’t want it. She tugged on her mother’s skirt, “Can’t I stay with Emile?”

Sabina cocked her head, “I thought you would be excited to move into your own space. Weren’t you just complaining about his laundry?”

Yes, she had been but she could put up with his smelly socks all over the place. “I’m afraid to sleep by myself,” whispered Mercedes.

Sabina knelt down and tucked a long blond lock behind Mercedes’ ear, “Honey, why? You know there’s nothing that can get you.”

Mercedes thought about what Colette had said and how afraid Jeanne was. “What if father comes into my room at night?”

Sabina looked troubled and confused, “What? He won’t.”

“Promise?” Mercedes could feel the tears welling in her eyes.

“Of course,” said Sabina as she hugged her daughter. Gerhard did not come to her room on the first night, the second, and the third. Mercedes finally started to sleep after that.

The Baron gave her a new doll to celebrate her ninth birthday, “A pretty doll for a pretty little girl.”

“Thank you father,” said Mercedes. He told her how pretty she was often. It did not feel like a compliment.

Emile had gotten a horse of his own that year for his birthday and Gerhard took him to hunt and train often in the woods. Sometimes they were gone for many nights camping and would come back with all sorts of game. Emile hung by her door now with his new bow, “I’m ready to leave now father.”

Gerhard looked up and nodded, “Good, go get the horses ready for the hunt.”

Mercedes stared at her doll, “What are you hunting?”

“Poachers,” smiled the Baron before he kissed her on the head and patted her shoulder.

Jeanne’s room was on the other side of Mercedes’ wall. When the Baron and Emile returned from their long hunting trip, Mercedes was woken up from sleep by the sound of Jeanne softly crying. Mercedes hugged her doll close and tried to fall back asleep. She heard her door creak open and she looked over in a panic to see a figure peeking inside. “Father?” asked Mercedes weakly. She wished it was a ghost instead.

“Just checking in on you, sleep well darling,” said the Baron before he pulled her door shut.

**1167**

Jeanne was getting ready for her wedding. Mercedes was helping to do her hair, much as Jeanne had done Colette’s. The two girls did not speak. Jeanne’s eyes were big and mournful as she watched Mercedes. As Mercedes reached for the flowers to add to her step sister’s braid, Jeanne’s hand darted out to grab Mercedes by the wrist, “You need to run away.”

Mercedes froze as she remembered what had happened to Louis. She shook her head in a panic but no words came out.

Jeanne frowned, “He will visit your room now that I am gone. He told me so. He’s excited because you have a crest.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Mercedes. As far as Mercedes was concerned she had a crest but she had no idea how it helped her at all.

Her step sister cupped her hand over Mercedes’ ear to whisper, “He wants to have a baby with you.” Jeanne looked extremely ashamed and sick as she pulled back, “He says because you’re not his real daughter it will be alright.”

Mercedes was nine, on the cusp of ten. She did not know how people had babies together, but she knew that even if her father was just a step father, he shouldn’t be having one with her. Not now, not ever. Jeanne looked nervously at the door, “He’ll be distracted today. You need to go while he’s busy.”

“But he’ll hunt me if I leave,” Mercedes felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“Tell your mother, you still have yours, maybe she can protect you,” said Jeanne. The girl’s grip dug into Mercedes arms with a desperate strength. “Please, you don’t want this.”

Mercedes dropped the flowers and ran from the room to find her mother. “Mom, mom, I need to talk to you,” whispered Mercedes.

Sabina was overseeing all the decorating of the sweets, she was quite the baker, and she looked down at her daughter with a soft perturbed gaze, “Mercie, this is a busy day, can it wait?”

“No,” said Mercedes. Her mother must have sensed her daughter’s fear as she nodded and excused herself from the kitchen. The house was packed with people visiting for the wedding.

“What is it? What’s gotten into you?” Her mother knelt down to be eye level with her and rubbed her shoulders reassuringly.

“Jeanne said that father is going to visit my room at night after she’s gone,” said Mercedes. She kept her voice as quiet as possible.

“What are you talking about?” Sabina’s voice was changing from kind to concerned.

“She cries at night, he hurts her,” whispered Mercedes. “I don’t want him to have a baby with me.”

Sabina said nothing. She stared with her big blue eyes wide open. “Jeanne said this?”

Mercedes nodded, “Colette told her he would come to her room when she left, and he did, now he’s going to come for me.” Mercedes had started to cry.

Sabina dried her daughter’s eyes, “No crying, save it for later. Go to your room. Pack your satchel only with what you absolutely need and hide it in your brother’s room. Get him to pack one too. I’ll fix this.”

Mercedes nodded and ran. What did she need? She looked at the doll her father gave her, she definitely didn’t need that. She needed clothes, and she needed her blanket, but that didn’t leave much room for anything else. Emile was in his room when she came to hide her things. He looked at her with a passive sort of curiosity, “What are you doing?”

“Mother told me to pack a bag, I, I think we’re running away. You should pack one too,” whispered Mercedes.

Emile shook his head, “He’ll hunt us. He’ll catch us.”

Mercedes knew her mother had told her not to cry but she couldn’t help it, “He wants to hurt me Emile. He hurts Jeanne. He hurt Colette, and I’m next.”

“No,” said Emile. “No I won’t let him hurt you.”

For being her little brother he was much bigger than Mercedes. When he said he would protect her, she believed him, but could he be strong enough to face their father? Emile folded his arms. “You go, take my horse. I’ll stay and when father goes to hunt you down, well, I make sure he doesn’t catch you.”

Mercedes lip trembled, “But then we’ll be apart.”

“I’ll find you, I’m a good tracker,” said Emile proudly. “We’ll meet again, when it’s safe.”

***

The wedding was a joyous affair with plenty of drinking. Sabina made sure her husband’s cup was always full. He drank, and he drank, and eventually he passed out at the table with so many others celebrating the arranged union between two lowly houses. The Hryms and the Bartels were joining their forces by joining their children, they planned to rebel once and for all against Ionius’ policies. They would finally show Enbarr their might.

Sabina wasn’t sticking around to watch them do it. She gave her children the signal, it was time to go. “Emile where is your bag?”

“I’m not going,” said Emile in his flat voice. He did not seem afraid, though he never did. “I’m staying behind. I told Mercie you should take my horse.”

Sabina curled her fingers through her sons hair. He was strong, but he was still a child, “I cannot leave you. We stay as a family.”

Emile shook his head. “I will make sure you aren’t hunted. I’ll find you when I’m grown.”

He wasn’t coming. He was choosing to stay, and like his stubborn sire, Sabina knew when his mind was made up there was no changing it. She feared for her empty hearted little son, but she feared more for her soft weak daughter who cried with joy at the sight of kittens, and wept with sadness when a snowman melted away on a warm day. If either child could survive Gerhard, it was Emile. Both her children were like their fathers — Mercedes too kind, and Emile too brutal — and Sabina knew which one needed her now. Sabina would pray Gerhard would just die in the rebellion, and that her son might be spared.

“I love you,” said Sabina as she kissed his forehead.

“I know,” shrugged Emile.

Mother and daughter rode their stolen horse north. They kept going and going, passing the Adrestian border, passing through mountains and forest, until they reached Fhirdiad. Until they reached home.

***

The Hryms and the Ordelias and all the little insignificant houses that helped them were punished for daring to try to stand against the Emperor. Ionius IX found the attempt pathetic, and he needed to set an example. The council meeting was attended by all the big ministers and aids: Vestra, Aegir, Hevring, Bergliez, Varley, Gerth, Arundel, and a newcomer, a mage by the name of Thales.

Ionius liked Thales, he wasn’t an Adrestian noble, he had risen up through the ranks of military mages and knew a great deal of magic. Ionius was thinking of making a new position for him, perhaps as an adjunct to the Minister of War or a Minister of Dark Arts. Ionius cleared his throat as he finished reading over their losses from this rebellion, “What is an appropriate punishment for standing against the Empire?”

“Increase their taxes,” Hevring’s suggestions were predictable and boring.

“Bring them to Enbarr to swear fealty, or redistribute lands to someone loyal,” said Bertram von Vestra. The same useless advice the Vestras had been spouting off for generations.

“This is more serious than that,” said the Prime Minister. Duke von Aegir stroked his mustache, “They need to made an example of. You need to execute the patriarch of the Hryms, at the very least. That will put the others in line.”

Ionius IX nodded at the suggestion, it was the best way to show their power. Thales leaned forward, “Your Imperial Highness, may I make an additional suggestion?”

“Please,” said Ionius, giving the relative newcomer the floor.

“Execution is a fit end for these rebels, but there is much that could be done with the Hryms and the Ordelias. With your permission, I would like to attempt to harvest their crests,” said Thales.

There was a shocked silence around the room. Ionius narrowed his gaze, “Is such a thing even possible?”

“Not yet, no, but imagine the strength of your rule if crests could be given, and taken, by your will,” said Thales. That was the ultimate power and Ionius found himself hungering for the possibility.

Aegir and Hevring were exchanging nervous glances. Of course they were; those pathetic fools were only in power because of their crests. So many houses wielded power merely because of their crests, and if those could be taken and given to loyal subjects, well that would be a game changer. “Tell me what you need to see it through, and we will execute them after,” said Ionius.

“Your majesty, may I please—” started Duke von Aegir.

“You may not,” said the Emperor in a harsh voice to his Prime Minister. “No, I like the idea of this. If we can control crests, imagine it. No longer would people be beholden to the goddess’ whims of fate. What a world that would be.”

Ionius IX signed the order giving his new Council of Magic full reign over the counties of Hrym, and the force needed to take Ordelia for their involvement in the rebellion. Whatever Thales needed, he and his fellow dark mages would have. Ionius IX had four children with crests, but he imagined the world where all nine of them, soon ten, would have them. He dreamed of the day when he could take the crest of Cichol out of Aegir entirely to keep that idiot in line. He would be able to concentrate all the power in the realm into his throne. Little did he know that he had just broken ground on the Hresvelg’s tomb.

**1176**

Emile von Bartels, a boy taken from his home after a failed revolt and returned as a man shaped by rough hands, was on trial. He was accused of pushing his own father into a bear trap in front of a whole camp of witnesses — mostly extended family on a hunting trip — that he then ruthlessly slaughtered. One person had escaped to tell the tale to the authorities. Emile was set to hang as soon as the Emperor had signed off. A signature was needed whenever a noble was sentenced to die. When asked if he had any regrets, Emile had looked at his jailer with an emotionless face and asked why he would regret anything.

The Emperor was aged beyond his years as he trained his sole remaining daughter how to rule. Edelgard was given the execution order to sign. She refrained, and instead asked her uncle Arundel what he knew about this young man. She was extremely intrigued by what she learned.

Emile von Bartels was nineteen when he died. In his place Jeritza von Hrym was born, and inherited a county through his long dead step sister. Mercedes von Martritz, as she was then was known in Fhirdiad, only heard about Emile dying and nothing of Jeritza rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for reference, I use name meanings from Behind the Name and for the OC relatives I tried to choose fitting names, but most people don't name their kids things that mean 'evil bastard' so anyway Gerhard roughly means 'rule of the spear'  
> 


	8. A Home in Fhirdiad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes' time in and around Fhirdiad from ages 10-20

**1167**

_How could I let this happen._

_How could he have been doing this under my nose—_

_You didn’t ask questions when he left your bed._

_I didn’t know._

_You saw how he looked at the help._

_They were his daughters how could he—_

_Mercedes isn’t his daughter._

_Yes. But he raised her—_

_Nothing comes for free. You made yourself barren, you turned his gaze to her._

_I would never endanger my children—_

_You let him teach your son how to kill._

_You didn’t protect him. Why would you protect the others?_

_That’s not the same—_

_Now you left Emile all alone with his father._

_This is all your fault._

Mercedes stared at her mother murmuring over the fire. Sabina had her hands on either side of her head as she rocked back and forth. Mercedes had already tried talking to her mother but she wasn’t getting through so she cooked dinner instead. Her mother had shoved things from the pantry into a bag haphazardly. There were potatoes and onions and a cook pot. Mercedes did her best. It was…not good. Mercedes looked up at the night sky and wondered when the Baron was going to wake up and realize they were gone. She wondered how far he would chase them.

She had nightmares that night of Louis’ bloodied face becoming her own. She dreamed that Emile was standing over her with his bow and no emotions on his face. She dreamed that Gerhard came into her room. She dreamed of Colette telling her to be quiet and take it. Mercedes woke with a wet face and the desire to never dream again.

***

Mercedes had never been in a city before, and Fhirdiad had to the biggest in the world. Her mother moved through the streets like a ghost murmuring that things had changed and that she did not know the streets anymore. She muttered about looking for her family, but she couldn’t remember their houses anymore. So they wandered like aimless spirits through the streets as the day turned into night.

“Mom, we need to eat,” said Mercedes as her stomach growled. They had been robbed on the road — gone was Emile’s horse and her mother’s jewelry — and now they had nothing to even trade with. That had been the last straw for Sabina, that’s when she’d really stopped making sense. “We need a place to sleep.”

Sabina did not answer her daughter. Her eyes were distant. She had stopped eating first so that Mercedes would have food, and now she swayed like a sapling in the wind. Mercedes was very afraid of the way her mother was acting. The road had been scary enough, but this was overwhelming. Mercedes didn’t know what to do as she held her mother’s hand and kept walking. Maybe they could find somewhere safe looking to sleep at least.

Mercedes watched as houses went dark. The streets were growing pitch black as if a great shadow was sweeping over the city and putting it to sleep. Mercedes clutched Sabina’s hand and wondered if they should just stop and huddle for the night, and hope to find food in the morning. Mercedes could not help herself but start to cry.

At least one building was still lit. It was a big one with colorful windows. Mercedes pulled her mother towards that because at the very least being near something lit felt safe. When they finally got to it Mercedes stared at the great building in awe. It was a massive domed structure with so many lights burning inside, and it’s doors were wide open as if anyone was welcome to just walk right in. Mercedes took a deep breath and led her mother up the stairs to peek inside.

At the sight of it, Sabina dropped down to her knees. She clasped her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut, “Please Goddess, punish me for what I have done.” Her words were raspy and repetitive as she murmured it over and over.

“Mom?” Mercedes had never seen her mother behave like this. She looked inside again and wondered what was causing her mother to do this. There were lots of people inside a huge room with lots little benches, and a person was talking at the head of the massive hall. Mercedes lingered at the door as she felt the heat from inside leaking out.

A person sitting on a stool by the entrance startled her as they twisted around to look at her. It was a man in robes and a funny hat, “Hello, are you here for the service?”

Mercedes stomach gave a loud gurgle as she shook her head, “I, I was just wondering what was inside.”

“This is the Church of Seiros,” said the man as he looked at her mother. Sabina was still on the ground with her eyes closed and her lips moving as she spoke under her breath. The man looked back at Mercedes with a concerned glance, “Do you need some help?”

“Um,” Mercedes did need help. She needed food, she needed a place to sleep and most of all she needed someone to make her mother normal again. Mercedes managed to nod and the man nodded back at her.

He got off his stool and helped her to get Sabina upright. This was like the start of every bad fairy tale; a child followed a stranger and ended up kidnapped and cooked. However Mercedes had never read a fairy tale set in a, what was this called again, a church? There were a lot of people inside, surely it couldn’t be bad if all these people were here right? Mercedes tugged on her mother’s hand and followed the man. They ended up in a sparsely decorated dining hall.

Mercedes was presented with a bowl of soup from a giant pot. “This is the rectory, where the nuns and monks of the Church here in Fhirdiad live,” explained the man. He had a very slow and patient voice, and could not be less like her step father.

“Are you a nun?” asked Mercedes between bites.

The man smiled, “No, I’m a monk. Nuns are women.” He looked again at Sabina and back at Mercedes, “Are you familiar with Seiros?”

Mercedes shook her head. The man remained very patient even though Mercedes felt like she had heard of nothing he was talking about. The monk watched her hungrily eating and gave her another bowl. “Are you from Fhirdiad?”

“My mother is,” said Mercedes. “We had to, um, leave home, so we came here.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

Mercedes shook her head, “No. We don’t have anything.” Mercedes started to sniffle about it as she processed all they’d lost. She didn’t have her brother anymore, and she was afraid she didn’t have her mother either.

“You should stay here tonight, we’ll find you a room in the women’s building, and in the morning, we’ll figure out what to do with you, does that sound good?”

Mercedes nodded. Her mother still had not eaten. Sabina was just doing the same weird murmuring. Mercedes bit her lip and then looked at the monk, “Do you think you can fix her?”

The man pursed his lips, “We heal people here, maybe we can heal your mother.”

That night as Mercedes slept next to her mother in the modest nun’s accommodations she felt safe for the first time in a long time. She did not know it then but this would her home for years.

**1170**

Mercedes walked through the streets of Fhirdiad swinging her shopping basket. Today was special, today was her thirteenth birthday and Mercedes had been given three silver pieces to spend however she pleased. She was heading straight to the haberdashery.

“Mercedes von Martritz, what a lovely sight,” said the shopkeeper, Michel. “What brings you here today?” He was sorting a shipment of buttons into their little drawers on the great big wall of buttons. Michel was a merchant with ties to the Alliance and he always had the fanciest buttons in all of Fhirdiad. Mercedes was of the opinion that no store in the world could possibly have more button’s than Michel’s lovely haberdashery.

“It’s my birthday,” announced Mercedes excitedly. “I’m going to make myself a new dress.”

“Your birthday! Happy birthday Mercedes,” said Michel as he pulled a drawer free. He picked out six blazing blue buttons, “Here, a gift, they match your eyes.”

“Oh thank you,” said Mercedes in surprise. They were extremely nice ceramic buttons; Mercedes was used to wood. “Are you sure?”

“It’s my shop, I can give people what I want,” laughed Michel as he got down from his step ladder. “How’s your mother doing?”

Michel often sat with Sabina during Church services. He’d eat with her at the big community luncheon following Sunday’s service too. He was a widower who had lost his wife to the plague that hit Fhirdiad years before, and Mercedes dreamed that he would just marry her mother and adopt Mercedes. He seemed to really like Sabina, but Mercedes’ mother was complicated at times. She was herself often, but she had dark spells. “Well, this week has been good,” said Mercedes. A few weeks ago, the third anniversary of their escape, had not been so good though. Sabina had missed church services to lay catatonic in her bed. Michel had of course asked after her.

“Grief does funny things to people,” said Michel carefully as he followed her eyes as she looked over the woolen flannel selection.

Mercedes nodded, though nothing was _funny_ about how her mother handled grief, as she pulled a bolt of gray fabric down. She didn’t have to dress like a nun, but she didn’t like to stand out too much in the rectory. So she was going to make a nice gray dress, and then add her own flourish by embroidering some blue roses on it. “I’ll take two and half yards please.” That was the most she could afford.

“I’m going to give you three, for the same price. I don’t think you’ll make a mistake, but it never hurts to have that little extra,” winked Michel.

“Thank you,” said Mercedes as she blushed. Michel was no stranger to her rushing back to the shop when she had underestimated her yardage. She was a little clumsy with her scissors, and he kept telling her to measure twice and cut once. She was just usually thinking about other things!

She passed him the three silver pieces but Michel only took two, “It’s fine Mercedes.”

Mercedes was very poor but she still didn’t want extra charity on top of all she received from the church, “No, please take it.”

Michel pursed his lips, “Nope, I’m commissioning you to make something from your leftover fabric with this silver piece. Go buy yourself a birthday cake to share with your mother or something fun.”

Mercedes beamed that he liked her sewing that much, “Will do.” She ended up making him a new tie embroidered with little fish.

A few weeks of dedicated work later, Mercedes proudly showed off her new dress to Michel as they stood around with the rest of the congregation following the weekly Sunday morning service. There were always small night masses that Mercedes attended as a candle lighter every night, but Sunday mornings were the main event for socializing. Unfortunately Sabina was not well enough to get out of bed today.

“You’re getting very good at sewing, has your mother been helping you?” Michel’s question was innocent.

“Um, no,” said Mercedes as she played with the end of her ponytail. Sabina used to sew all of Mercedes’ clothing until she put down her needle and thread forever. Now Mercedes did the sewing for both of them. A group of nuns had patiently taught her what she needed to know. She was learning many things here, like how to take care of herself, how to take care of her mother, and how to care for children left in the nursery when their parents attended services. Mercedes was taught to cook things other than sweets, though seasoning still eluded her, how to make herself clothes, how to patch and darn to make things last longer, or how to stretch her limited coin as far as possible. Most of all she was learning all about the Goddess and that everything happened for a reason. When times were tough, that was just the Goddess giving someone what they could handle. That made Mercedes feel much better about everything that had so far happened in her short life. She prayed often for her mother to get better.

“Mercedes, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Uh,” Mercedes often ‘um’ed’ and ‘uh’ed’. The nuns told her she could be unfocused and scatterbrained during lessons, but Mercedes couldn’t help it. “I guess I’ll be a nun.” She liked the Church, and most of all she liked being a part of a big family that took care of each other.

Michel scratched his chin, “You know, you could work at my shop. You’d have a little more money that way. You could pick up tailoring and sewing projects for clients.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes. She like Michel, but a small part of her was always cautious around men. Michel was nothing like Gerhard, but there was always the possibility something like that was hiding within him.

“You know my wife and I were trying to have a family before she passed away. I often think about how I’d have a child around your age if things hadn’t gone the way they did—”

“I don’t want to have a baby with you,” murmured Mercedes as her heart began to race.

“My goddess, no Mercedes, no that’s not what I was saying at all,” said Michel in shock. “Why on earth would you think I wanted a child with you?”

“My step father wanted to have a baby with me,” whispered Mercedes as her face burned with shame. She had recently learned what it took to make a child now that she had started her monthly cycles. This made her feel worse that much worse about what her step father had been planning. The nuns were teaching her all about what her crest meant, and it was so much more than making a family strong, it made her strong, in theory. Mercedes was content to let the goddess guide her towards her destiny rather than trying to carve one out.

Michel was silent. Mercedes hung her head, he would probably not want to speak with her now that he knew. Finally Michel spoke, “Your step father is a disgusting person. What I wanted to say was that I see you like the child my wife and I never got to have. I think the goddess had us find each other for a reason. I have a lot and no one to share it with, I’d like to help take care of you and your mother.” It was Mercedes dream come true. She was sure that with a kind husband, Sabina would get better, maybe they could even get Emile back too. Mercedes thanked the goddess for Michel and prayed for her mother to see how wonderful this would be.

**1172-1176**

“Dad, Dad, I got accepted!” cheered Mercedes as she reread her acceptance letter to the School of Sorcery. The family lived above the haberdashery and Mercedes minded the shop in the afternoons after school. She was getting quite the reputation as a seamstress around town, but one of her teachers had convinced her to take the entrance exam for the school of sorcery, and she had done well enough to get a scholarship.

“Good!” said Michel as he finished helping a customer. She still went to church and helped out there during the week, but now she didn’t feel like she had to be a nun. Michel was not subtly trying to get her interested in taking over the shop someday. She liked sewing but she didn’t care much for inventorying and budgeting. Michel suggested maybe she ought to think about marrying someone to help her with the numbers side of things. She was too young now for marriage, but, maybe when she was graduated from school she should consider courting some nice merchant’s sons.

Mercedes loved learning at the school of sorcery. It was not a place of battle magic but of faith magic and practical black magic. Mercedes learned a great deal about theory and spell craft, and soon became one of the top healers of her class. Some students talked about going to Garreg Mach to become warriors, but the idea of fighting didn’t quite appeal to her. Since she had a crest and was strongly encouraged by some professors to take the entrance exam but Mercedes declined. She didn’t mind the idea of working for the church, but she preferred to strictly heal. In her senior year she met Annette Dominic when she was assigned as the freshman’s mentor. They hit it off and quickly became best friends.

As graduation rapidly approached, Mercedes got another letter of acceptance in the mail, “Dad! I got that healer position up at the Northern Monastery.” It was a branch of the Church’s many schools. People when there to train as clerics and war monks and Mercedes was hired to work in their infirmary

“Oh that’s so far,” said Michel as he read over the letter. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s only an hour away by cart,” said Mercedes easily as she helped herself to a cookie.

“You know your mother’s not doing so well,” said Michel softly. They both looked out to the garden where Sabina was sitting in the sun. A few months prior they had received word that Emile had murdered several family members, Gerhard included, and he was hung for his crimes. Whatever was left of Sabina had been extinguished by the news. She barely spoke now, and it was difficult to watch her. Mercedes’ healing magic was useless for a broken heart, and all Mercedes and Michel could do was keep Sabina comfortable.

“I know, but I’m not going far, and I can come back whenever I need to. It’s only for a few years,” insisted Mercedes. Honestly being under the same roof as her mother right now was extremely painful. She could spend the weekdays up at the monastery and care for her mother on weekends, but being here every day was suffocating her. She had been parenting her mother for years, and she needed a break for herself. Mercedes felt the Goddess wanted her to help people, and she had finally come to terms that she was incapable of helping her mother get better. She had been given this opportunity to be a healer in a meaningful way, and she wanted to take it.

“I know honey, but, will you at least entertain a few dates with potential suitors?” Michel had been trying to get her to go on a first date with so many potential suitors it made her head spin.

Mercedes did want to get married, she did want a family, she just wasn’t in any rush. She was nineteen, she could get married later. Mercedes tried to keep her heart open to the potential of a long engagement, “Of course.” Perhaps the Goddess would steer her towards someone fitting.

Her father had a good sense for men that would be good businessmen, and likely decent husbands, but his offerings stirred no passion within her. She went on a dozen first dates as she waited for a room to open up for her at the Northern Monastery. She went on no second dates. They were all fine suitors, but she wanted romance. Little did she or her father know she would find it in the form of someone else’s fiance.

**1177-1179**

Mercedes was one of the best healers in the infirmary, which was good for the young man presently receiving her attention. He had a big gash in his thigh following a training mission and Mercedes was trying to remember her manners as she worked. It was rude to stare but he was startlingly handsome and dedicating his life to protecting the church. She didn’t realize she had a type, but this was it. “So you’re training to be a war monk, that’s exciting.”

“Yes, although I suppose I should work on getting better at it.” His smile was charming and easy and Mercedes tried not to blush. “Lucky for me you’re so good at faith magic.”

“Well I’m always happy to help you study,” said Mercedes with a giggle as she finished closing up his wound. The war monk thanked her and said he might take her up on the offer. This was how the war monk slowly became _her_ war monk.

Mercedes found excuses to have chores around the training grounds and made good on tutoring him in faith magic. He wasn’t a natural like her, but he was persistent. Eventually she figured out that he was more interested in her than the magic, and that was thrilling.

They shared their first kiss when she made him a floral crown for Garland Moon. It was Mercedes’ first kiss ever and when she closed her eyes she could still feel his stubble against her face and the warmth of his mouth. He was strong and had wrapped his muscled arms around her with his hands creeping up her back to hold her close. He told her she was beautiful, and she believed him. He promised he’d keep her safe. She thought of him when she did her healing spells now.

It took him until Horsebow Moon to tell her about his fiancee. Mercedes took a little break from him to sort out her feelings. He didn’t choose his fiancée, his parents had. He had chosen Mercedes, and that to count for something. She spent that winter pining over him and trying to figure out what to do. She didn’t dare tell her father what was going on, but the string of suitors he lined up for her only made her more interested in the war monk.

They kept running into each other since it was a small monastery, and she lay awake at night thinking about him all through the spring. On her 21st birthday he showed up at her little modest room with a packed picnic basket and a bottle of wine. They talked over a long lunch up on a hill. They talked about his family and their expectations, and she told him about her family, even the Bartels. She hadn’t even told Annie all that much, but she told her war monk everything.

They kissed again when that picnic was done and decided that they were right for each other, families be damned. Her war monk didn’t care about what his family wanted, he only cared about Mercedes. She understood what her father wanted for her, stability and security, but maybe fate had brought her here to meet this man. Perhaps this was the Goddess’ plan for her. That’s what her heart wanted to believe. He was loyal and devoted to the church, he was strong and strapping, and he was so very passionate about her.

They made love in the tiny cramped dorm room he had because she had a roommate while he did not. Their noses bumped and brushed as he whispered that he loved her, and she whispered it back. She wanted to shout it. She wanted to sing it. She settled for whispering it so no one would find out and ruin their reputations.

The war monk’s family was still planning his wedding and Mercedes began to wonder when he was going to tell them it was off. He told her that he was just waiting for the right time. He told her not to worry, so she didn’t. She loved him, and she trusted him. She should have been more suspicious though when he went home for a long visit.

Mercedes spent her 22nd birthday alone at work. Her father though did his best to bake her a cake when she came home that weekend. Her mother barely registered her presence. Mercedes’ war monk came back to the monastery and his wedding now had a date. The news was not a good birthday present. There was no lovely picnic on a hill. Mercedes decided to visit Annie at the Baron Dominic’s estate to help distract her from her slowly breaking heart.

“I think I found my father,” said Annie with quiet excitement. She had taken Mercedes for a walk in the woods so that her poor mother wouldn’t overhear this conversation.

“Really, oh Annie, that’s wonderful,” said Mercedes. “Where is he?”

“Well, he’s going by a different name, but I’m pretty sure he’s at Garreg Mach,” said Annie as they walked. Annie’s father Gustave had abandoned his family after the terrible Tragedy of Duscar in 1176. He had all but disappeared, leaving them without any answers or reasons for his actions.

“How did you figure this out?”

Annie bit her lip. “I started um, sneaking off campus in Fhirdiad to ask around about him.” Her father had been a retainer of the King, and had worked in the palace.

“Oh Annie, no,” whispered Mercedes in horror. School was super important to Annie, and if she had been caught sneaking out she could have been expelled.

“Well I didn’t caught,” said Annie, though it was clear she was still anxious over it. “Anyway, I applied to Garreg Mach and I just got in. They’re even letting me into a special academy because of my crest!”

It sounded dreamy. It sounded fun. It sounded much better than becoming a nun while the love of your life married his fiancee. Mercedes was embarrassed that she’d let herself get hooked on someone who didn’t love her enough to put her ahead of an arranged marriage. She was heartbroken, and she didn’t know what to do so instead she focused on Annie, “I hope you find him.”

“I’m going to bring him home,” said Annie. She was usually the one fretting with Mercedes being the gentle hopeful one, but right now Annie’s optimism was fierce and determined while Mercedes just felt like one of the leaves turning orange on the trees and getting ready to fall.

“Try to have fun at school though,” added Mercedes. She wasn’t jealous but she was wishing she had somewhere to run away to or a mission to see through. She was feeling less confident the Goddess had any plan at all for her. Maybe it was time to take some control back.

When Mercedes got back to the Northern Monastery she composed a letter to a certain fiancee. She hummed as she dropped it into the post and waited for the world to explode. She wasn’t sure where the pieces would land or if she’d even survive it but anything was better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While looking for potential french names (since that seems to be the prevailing naming scheme in Faerghus) I found that Gautier is a french form of...Walter!? 
> 
> Sylvain Walter. Doesn't have the same ring. And now all I can think of is Walder Frey. Blerg.


	9. Conscripted for the Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the battle at Garreg Mach things are uncertain in Faerghus, and Mercedes is feeling low.  
> Hubert has adopted one of Byleth's traditions to disastrous effect.

**Spring 1181**

Annette was glad that Ingrid was sharing her old clothes, although they were not Annie’s style at all. Despite not having much, the Galatea’s were being more than generous with the weary ex-students. It was easy to see where Ingrid had gotten her work ethic after meeting her parents and brothers.

As they sat down for dinner Annette felt strangely nostalgic for her own childhood. Her home had been happy like this before her father left, and Annette missed the feeling of a full family table with lots of talking and plenty of food being passed around. Sylvain was annoying Ingrid by flirting with her grandma, who was blushing like a teenager and laughing. “Granny Galatea, you don’t look a day over seventy,” winked Sylvain as he passed her some mashed potatoes. Ingrid’s brothers all looked like they could win a wrestling match against both Raphael and Dedue at the same time. Annette felt super small in between them.

“So has Duke Blaiddyd rallied any forces?” Ingrid was in war mode, but no one else was.

Her father shook his head, “No, there’s been no official word from Fhirdiad.”

Ingrid’s mother sighed and patted Ingrid’s arm, “What matters is that you’re home and you’re safe.”

“I’m not staying put, I’m going to go fight,” said Ingrid before filling her mouth with mashed potatoes so her parents couldn’t argue with her.

Her parents exchanged looks with each other and then stared back at their daughter. Her father appeared extremely concern, “By yourself?”

Ingrid swallowed a big bolus and gestured at Annette and Sylvain with her fork, “No these two are coming too.”

“Ingrid, dear, we need you here helping to protect our lands. If there is a war we’re going to feel it soon,” said her mother. Their home was on the border of the Kingdom and the Alliance, and quite close to Garreg Mach.

“You alone can wield Luin,” added her father.

Ingrid frowned, “They have Felix. I’m bringing him home.” The three of them had decided not to mention to anyone that Felix had willingly defected. Perhaps he’d been struck in a fit of craziness and would change his mind. Maybe he had been backed into a corner. Maybe he was a mole for Faerghus! Annie was trying to remain optimistic.

“We’re going to go up to Gautier lands next,” said Sylvain, as he injected himself into the family conversation. “We’ll have to pass through Fraldarius lands, I’m sure Rodrigue will be willing to send some help to defend your borders.” The Galateas and Fraldariuses had once almost been allied by marriage, and Annie dreaded the idea of that being true again. However it was out of her control, just like everything else right now.

“We would appreciate that greatly Sylvain,” said Ingrid’s father with a tempered tone. He stared at his daughter, “We will need all the help we can get.”

Ingrid was cutting her vegetables like they were Adrestian soldiers, “Respectfully, no one knows what’s going on. At the very least, I’m going to Fhirdiad and arguing that the kingdom needs to respond. Then I’ll come home, I promise.”

That night Annette slept with Ingrid in her bedroom which was alarmingly full of pegasus imagery. “I wonder what’s going on in Fhirdiad,” whispered Annette as she thought about her mother and uncle and the school of sorcery.

“Me too.” Ingrid sighed, “I’m worried about Dimitri. What if he got captured too?”

Annette hugged a loaner teddy bear to her chest, “Do you think they’d keep him hostage to make the Kingdom submit?” Even as she asked the question, she knew it was the most likely scenario. This was Edelgard, and by extension Hubert, running the show and of course they’d do something like that.

“I don’t want to speculate. I want to get back on the road and get ahead of this thing,” grumbled Ingrid.

Annette agreed. She wasn’t very religious, but she silently offered up a little prayer for Mercedes, Felix, Dedue and Dimitri. She squeezed the teddy bear and threw Ashe in there too just in case he came to his senses and came back to the kingdom. She hoped all her friends stayed safe. She prayed for her uncle and his family and then for her mother. Lastly she thought of her father, _Dad, Gustave or Gilbert or whatever you’re calling yourself now, stay safe and don’t do anything too stupid._ Her father was a man driven by his obsessive guilt, and she was terrified about what the loss of the monastery was going to do to his fragile psyche. She wanted to see her mother again, but she was super unenthusiastic to tell her about _Gilbert_ and what she’d learned about him over the last year.

***

The morning bell went off and Mercedes almost thought she was waking up for class. As she yawned and looked around her room her reality came to weigh her down. For years Mercedes had clung to the idea that the Goddess willed things to happen, but how on earth had Sothis allowed _this_ to pass? Maybe nothing happened for a reason, and bad things just had no point or purpose. Thinking about this over and over made it hard to get out of bed.

She didn’t feel like doing her make-up because that only reminded her of Annie. Mercedes had no idea of what had become of Annette, or any of the other Blue Lions. It had been almost two months since the attack but Mercedes hadn’t heard a peep of anything out of the Kingdom other than things were in turmoil. She had earned the privilege of sending and receiving mail for her good compliant behavior, though it was opened and read through by Adrestians to make sure she wasn’t leaking information. She’d sent one letter out to her mother and Michel, and gotten a response weeks later that things were still fine in Fhirdiad but there was a great deal of confusion. The Regent, Dimitri’s uncle Rufus, was still in charge but no one had heard from the prince since the attack. Mercedes could only guess how the situation was changing thanks to the disrupted post and lack of real news.

She threw her hair into yet another lazy bun. Felix had joked that she was stealing his hairstyle but the truth was Mercedes just didn’t feel like brushing it. She avoided spending too much time in the sauna to avoid others, and as a result her legs were starting to look like Ingrid’s. Frankly, Mercedes couldn’t be bothered to care. What was the point?

There were no real uniforms anymore, well, except for Hubert proudly prancing around in his stupid Adrestian army attire. Everyone else was making things up as they went, preferring to grab bits of their school uniforms and regular clothes. It was interesting to say the least.

Petra had almost immediately put on her traditional Brigid clothes, which drew more than a few inappropriate stares. Dorothea had some really wild ideas about fashion, and looked ready to go out on the town at any moment. Edelgard had begun to wear an especially conservative red dress and cape everywhere, and looked as intimidating as ever.

Everyone else was less coordinated in their fashion attack. It was getting warm and some people were putting on their beige summer school uniforms, like Ferdinand, but Mercedes didn’t care for those. She stuck with her old look, although as spring got hotter it became too warm for her shawl. Thinking about sewing new clothes sounded like a lot of work that Mercedes didn’t want to do, but she passed her time dreaming up dresses with lots of ruffles.

Luckily they hadn’t had any battles since the taking of Garreg Mach. Instead Edelgard was inviting nobles from all over the continent to come and pledge their support. It was a mixed bag at best. The Kingdom nobles that had been working with the Western Church were quick to flock over, as were the Alliance lords whose territories bordered Adrestia, like Ordelia and Gloucester. Otherwise though the negotiations were tense and some nobles refused to treat at all. Margave Gautier and Duke Fraldarius refused outright, and Baron Dominic was presently staying neutral. Houses Riegan and Goneril were locking down their borders and preparing for war.

Mercedes was getting increasingly forlorn as she wondered what had become of her friends and for the first time in her life, she found her faith magic weak. She was having trouble with even basic healing and others were taking note. Much of her time was spent making and stockpiling vulneraries in silence with Manuela. “Mercie, you look down, do you want to go sing some hymns together later?”

Mercedes glanced up and shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t feel in much of a singing mood.” She liked singing in the cathedral, but it was so destroyed that the songs no longer sounded the same inside it. Hearing the way the acoustics had changed, for the worse, made her incredibly sad.

Her twenty-fourth birthday arrived without anyone noticing. She didn’t expect Felix to care about birthdays and Ashe was away negotiating for troops in the Gaspard territory. Mercedes decided to celebrate by escaping this hell through reading. She grabbed a book from the library, and since the librarian had been killed, no one was there to tell her she couldn’t just take it with her outside. _Ghost Tales of Morfis_ promised to be different at least. As she walked through the courtyards she noticed a familiar feline she hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Oh Mr. Grumplekins, you survived,” said Mercedes as a familiar black cat rubbed against her leg. She lifted him up and gave a good look over, “I don’t know why I was worried, you’ve clearly been in worst fights.” She gently scratched the ugliest cat on campus. The Blue Lions had decided that Mr. Grumplekins was Felix’s cat, even though Felix clearly thought otherwise. Felix insisted he did not like the one-eyed wonder, he just scratched him sometimes, but someone was clearly taking care of the mangy mess.

“Come on, let’s go read this book under a nice tree,” said Mercedes halfheartedly as she toted the cat with her to her favorite courtyard reading spot. He looked meaner than he was and Mercedes was willing to give most animals a chance. She found that he usually just lightly bit; it was never a piercing chomp, more of a cat to cat sort of nip. Mercedes inferred from this that he probably just didn’t have much experience with people and treated them like other cats. He purred in her lap as she read. She was a few stories in when she was interrupted by one of her least favorite individuals.

She watched as the cat rubbed affectionately on Hubert’s leg. Hubert groaned and looked at the cat, “We’ve had this talk, stop leaving hair on my pants.”

“Is Mr. Grumplekins _your_ cat?” Perhaps Felix was telling the truth after all. She didn’t take Hubert for someone who would ever willingly have a pet but this cat wasn’t this affectionate towards anyone.

“Mr. Grumplekins?” Hubert glared down at the feline, “He’s not my cat, although I may be his person.” He gently nudged the cat away with his boot, “I helped him out one time and now he won’t leave me alone. He’s an exceptional bother.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just poison him,” said Mercedes as she watched the cat eagerly returning to deposit its hair on Hubert.

“Excuse me?” Hubert looked alarmed by the suggestion.

“Isn’t that what you do to people that bother you? Remove them?” She shut her book and added it back to her bag. Well, this reading spot was compromised, and it was time to return to her room. She got up and dusted herself off and then folded her arms to hear out whatever mundane chore he was surely coming to assign her. He had his hands behind his back and Mercedes expected he was about to hand her a stock list of infirmary items to inventory.

“Well if someone is bothering Edelgard—”

“I’ll make sure not to cross her,” said Mercedes dryly as she tried to will him to leave her alone.

Hubert winced at the suggestion, “I was referring more to assassins and enemies, not allies. If that were the case Caspar would have been removed long ago.” He gave a weak chuckle as if to signal he was making a joke.

Mercedes didn’t laugh. She did not enjoy being called his ally. Hubert seemed to sense the awkward lull in the conversation as he pulled out the thing he’d had behind his back. “Happy birthday,” said Hubert as he gestured for her to take the parcel. It was a pale pink and neatly wrapped in an ivory ribbon.

Mercedes stared at the little box in his hands and then back up at him, “No thank you.”

“You’re not at all curious as to what it is?” He asked as he shook it. Something shifted and moved inside.

Mercedes sighed and stared, “Poison? Snakes? A vampire bat?”

Hubert’s brow furrowed, “No, it’s cookies from that bakery in town. Lysithea always raved about it.”

Mercedes knew the exact one he was talking about. The last time she’d been in the village it was boarded up after having been damaged in the battle. Apparently it was back open. She gingerly took the box, lest he was lying and it really was a snake, and managed a insincere sounding, “Thank you.” She paused as she considered why he of all people would get anyone a gift, “I don’t want to sound ungracious, but, why are _you_ giving me this?”

“Oh, I um, many of my birthdays were overlooked, or perhaps ignored, by my father and I know how disappointing that can be,” said Hubert in a quiet voice. He cleared his throat and straightened up, “It’s been brought to my attention that you are depressed and your work is suffering. So, if there’s anything I can do to help you get back to work, please let me know.”

 _Let me free. Let me run. Let me be anywhere but here._ Mercedes stiffened and gave him a long look. Her words came out bitter because she could not fake being nice to him of all people, “I apologize that me being unhappy isn’t making me an effective drone in your Emperor’s army. Maybe these cookies will fix everything.” She walked away so that she wouldn’t have to listen to anything else coming out of his mouth.

***

Hubert came to the cathedral when he needed a quiet place to think without interruption, because no one would ever look for him here. The act of cleaning was calming, and after Rhea had stormed through as the Immaculate One, there was a great deal to fix. So when Hubert needed to think through a problem he came to chip away at restoring the cathedral. There was a giant pile of rubble right on top of the main alter, and that kind of damage was going to take a lot of rigging to straighten up, so Hubert focused on what he could do on his own. Today as he considered the Black Eagles’ present situation he picked up little pieces from one of the shattered stained glass windows. He was trying to integrate Ferdinand, Mercedes, and Bernadetta into the Black Eagle Strike Force but so far it was going terribly. Hubert was nervous about taking them into battle. Bernadetta would probably freeze up or hide, Mercedes was going to run, and Ferdinand might try to take down Hubert and as many Black Eagles as he could in a blaze of brave glory. However their first fight would probably be sooner rather than later and Hubert needed to figure out how to get them battle ready.

He didn’t have a great love for art, but he could appreciate the clever aesthetics in the design of the cathedral. It was big and quiet, and no matter how many people packed in for services, it had always felt a little empty. Cynically, he wondered if that was meant to make humans feel small and insignificant in the face of something so big as the goddess and her children. In that way the massive throne room in the Imperial Palace of Enbarr was much the same; it was meant to make the subjects feel powerless at the feet of their Emperor, and yet a lot of people together could do quite a bit of damage. That had been shown by the Insurrection, and reiterated by Edelgard’s coup.

Hubert sighed and stared up at the window the little shattered bits of glass had come from. Right now the sun was hitting the image of the goddess, winged and divine looking down at the earth, and casting a colorful shadow right on him. He didn’t care much for the subject matter, but he liked the abstract colors mixing across his dark uniform. He had never even been in a church until coming to Garreg Mach, and he hadn’t been raised to believe in these teachings. He could still remember getting his father to explain to him what a church even was as they passed the big abandoned one in Enbarr.

When he had first learned about the goddess, probably from a religious nanny or maid, he had been excited. If there was really some lady up the clouds controlling everything it meant he wasn’t an accident. It meant he wasn’t a mistake. However, Hubert’s father taught him straight away that there was no will of the goddess, and anyone who suggested otherwise was just trying to use people’s beliefs to manipulate them. Besides, if the goddess was in control of all of Fodlan, she was doing a rather terrible job of running it.

His father also rejected the divine right of the Emperor to rule, and warned Hubert that a bad leader was a bad leader whether or not his ancestor had been selected by a saint. In retrospect, the seeds of the Insurrection had always been in Robert’s heart. As an adult, Hubert could see the purpose of the Insurrection and why change had needed to happen, but he couldn’t get past the violence it had torn through his family. There had been a lot of victims, and maybe Hanneman was right that the Insurrection saved Enbarr, but sometimes Hubert shamefully acknowledged his own hypocrisy: he would not hesitate to raze Enbarr to the ground if it meant bringing his family back and preventing the things that had befallen the Hresvelgs. He expected most people would feel the same about this war if it started to really pick up, and if they lost, he was going to get executed. He had accepted that long ago. It helped him fight like he was already dead, and that only made his dark magic stronger.

Hubert froze at the sound of people entering the cathedral. He ducked into a small alcove and panicked. He really didn’t want to be seen here because it would mean his secret spot was discovered, and also, the optics of him a church was sure to draw suspicion. Manuela’s loud voice filled the space, “Come on, singing is best way to soothe the soul.”

“I do have an exceptional voice,” declared Ferdinand. Hubert cringed, _Ferdinand, great_. Now he really didn’t want to be seen.

“Come on Mercedes, this will cheer you up,” promised Manuela before she started to warm her voice up.

They began and Hubert conceded that yes, Ferdinand had a good singing voice and provided decent accompaniment to Manuela. Ferdinand was good at everything though. He was handsome and athletic, he got along with people, and he never doubted in himself. It was infuriating. Hubert had spent his secondary school days coming up with nicknames for Ferdinand — _Ferdinand von Arrogant, Ferdinand von Abysmal, Ferdinand von Absolute worst_ — but in the end Ferdinand had many friends in school and Hubert had none until Edelgard came back. Hubert was like Ferdinand’s opposite, bad with a lance, a breaker of mirrors, and constantly over-analyzing every interaction trying to figure out people’s motives and secrets.

Hubert peeked from his hiding space and Ferdinand looked like a fucking angel as he sang. Hubert rolled his eyes, _Ferdinand von Angelic Annoyance_. Manuela’s expressions as she sang were very emotive and Hubert expected that was from her years on stage. Mercedes did not look like she was enjoying herself at all. During the school year she had always been smiling, but he hadn’t seen her smile in months. Her eyes looked a little dead and distant and Hubert knew that look well because that was how he had looked following the insurrection.

“My voice would make a pegasus dance with joy,” announced Ferdinand when they finished the first song. Hubert scoffed,a pegasus would likely stomp Ferdie in startled shock if he came to serenade it. Hubert sighed, this was the kind of obsessive thinking that made Edelgard tease him for having a crush on Ferdinand. Hubert was pretty sure he just wanted to crush Ferdinand, and that asshole didn’t need any more flattery coming his way.

Hubert had never experienced something so pedestrian as a crush. He didn’t want to be with anyone. Sure, he felt abstract sexual urges but as for romance, he felt nothing towards anyone he knew. When he looked at Ferdinand he could understand objectively why people liked him, why they found him attractive, but subjectively Hubert just felt indifferent about the idea of being with him. It worried him a little sometimes because passion was something he saw in others and wanted, but just didn’t feel. He worried something was missing inside him and that other people could sense that absence. He loved Edelgard, but they’d grown up together and the idea of being more than her friend was hard to comprehend. He enjoyed the physical act of sex, he knew that much, but he had a hard enough time making friends, let alone connecting with someone more deeply.

The fact was that when he looked at Ferdinand he saw Ludwig von Aegir standing in the throne room renouncing Ionius’ rule. He saw the Insurrection in Ferdinand, Caspar, and Linhardt, and it was a big block on attempting to be friends with them. He even saw it in Edelgard, which was probably why he couldn’t bring himself to be in love with her, and why being her friend was a bittersweet thing. Dorothea and Petra in contrast were easy to like, and even Lysithea was easier to tolerate than anyone directly related to participants of the Insurrection. Yet, he didn’t have romantic feelings towards them either; Dorothea could be extremely vexing, and Petra and Lysithea were like children to him they were so young. Perhaps if he survived this war he might meet someone someday that didn’t take him back to that terrible day, but he was also fine with the idea that he might never feel that.

He was trying though, because now these people were for better or worse his companions on the battlefield. He enjoyed being friends with Edelgard and he wished he understood how to form those bonds with other people. So he was giving birthday presents, even though he didn’t have much experience with that either. Hubert had found the birthday list in Professor Byleth’s things after the taking of Garreg Mach.

Byleth was a weird person to put it bluntly, but genuine in his actions. He had cared about his students, all of them and not just the Black Eagles. While Hubert’s birthday had passed before Byleth joined the school, it was endearing to see him buying other people gifts and flowers or taking them to tea for their birthdays. He never skipped anyone. At first Hubert had been extremely suspicious of Byleth and his attentions, but after watching him for almost a year Hubert concluded that the odd professor was just that, odd, and not trying to cozy his way in with the nobility. Hubert almost felt bad about making threats against him at first, but Byleth was hardly intimidated and even seemed to forgive Hubert, which was unexpected. Hubert was used to being the scary and troublesome student, so for Byleth to just laugh at his threats and then give him a detention for them was hard to deal with. In time however, Hubert had come to admire Byleth, especially for his decision to defend Edelgard in the Holy Mausoleum. Hubert couldn’t say he’d die for Byleth like he would for Edelgard, but he’d take a pretty hard hit for the professor after that. He had been looking forward to his own birthday tea with the professor.

Now, there was no more professor Byleth. So Hubert dutifully carried on the birthday tradition because that’s what he felt Byleth would have wanted, and Hubert hoped it would boost morale which was frankly low at the moment. It was difficult though because Hubert didn’t drink tea, and no one was especially eager to spend extra time with him. Instead he was focusing on gifts, but Hubert wasn’t much of a gift giver. Ferdinand’s birthday had been a straight up disaster that had ended with the two of them arguing as if they were boys in school again. Now Merecedes didn’t want cookies even though sweets were listed as something she loved in Byleth’s handy list of things students liked and disliked. Hubert was not built for this. He was bad at making friends, and worse at keeping them. He was just going to pass on the birthday list to Dorothea. She would handle this much better. 

Hubert was stuck here until the singing trio left and his brain kept going back to birthdays, and his father. Robert always got Hubert gifts that were intended for two people — a cricket bat and ball, a chess set — and then never paused his work long enough to be that second person. Hubert stared at his feet and wondered if even as a child it had been clear he was bad at getting close to people. Maybe that’s why his father didn’t try harder. Bitterly, Hubert recalled the last birthday gift Robert had bequeathed him. It had been another thing for two people.

**Lone Moon 1179**

Hubert stared at his early birthday gift in disbelief. His father had thought it appropriate to bring him to a brothel. A classy brothel, certainly, but a brothel all the same. Hubert looked back at his father, “Is this your attempt at a joke?”

“Lighten up Hubert,” advised Robert as he clapped his son on the back and kept his hand on Hubert’s shoulder. “I’d rather have you practiced at this so you don’t do what I did at your age.”

“You mean having me?” Hubert kept his voice dry and even. He had learned long ago to hide his reactions to the sting of his father’s careless words.

“That came out wrong, but you know what I mean,” said his father. The young woman looked between the two men as if unsure how to respond to the awkward tension between them. Robert tightened his grip on Hubert’s shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “You’re grown, you’re about to go off to a place filled with women and I’d rather send you there knowing you’re not going to make me a grandfather at forty.”

Hubert said nothing as his father pressed the coin purse into his hands and left the room. The prostitute exhaled softly, “Seiros, he’s your father? I thought he was your brother.”

Robert was like a brother, and one Hubert didn’t like. Bertram had been his father, and Al the brother that he loved, and Robert had killed them both. Robert had killed everything they stood for.

The purse felt heavy in Hubert’s hands. He carefully placed it upon the nightstand and looked at the courtesan in her gossamer robe and hair pulled up in an easy looking sort of way that he imagined she had actually spent quite a bit of time perfecting. His father appeared to have gone out of his way to choose someone reminiscent of the Imperial Princess, down to the violet ribbons in her hair. It had likely been an attempt at pleasing his son and appealing to his perceived interests, though the bitter irony of that was lost upon his sire. Edelgard didn’t inspire sexual desires in Hubert. Thinking of her being intimate with someone, having to explain her scars and how she got them, made him deeply depressed.

This woman was petite and slight. Edelgard was stunted, twisted by experiments, and dense with muscle and force. With a dress on, the two could perhaps be comparable, but Hubert suspected Edelgard did not look like this naked. He also could not imagine the Imperial Princess looking at him like this. The courtesan wore a mask of desire to net a tip.

“You do not have pretend to like me,” said Hubert as he sloughed off his jacket. “I am not interested in buying a fantasy tonight.”

For better or worse he was here, and this was his gift. If he refused it Robert was going to go on and on about it. Instead, Hubert was treating this as a research opportunity. He imagined it would be more enjoyable than flipping through a book or attempting to spy on Arundel, but it was still about learning what to do rather than just indulging in physical pleasure. “Please take the ribbons out of your hair.”

The courtesan looked surprised but quickly complied. She shook out her long hair and let it hang loose. Hubert wondered what he was supposed to do or where he ought to go and he was given little direction. He took a seat beside her on the bed and hoped she would just initiate whatever was supposed to happen. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling pulling at his heart that this was something that he wanted that he was always going to have to pay for. He convinced himself instead this was for the best: it was anonymous and straightforward with a defined end that he knew to anticipate. That was comforting in a way; this was a transaction and nothing more or less.

She slid her hand across the top of his thigh and Hubert felt a sensation of anticipation jolt through him. He couldn’t say he felt much in the way of romantic urges but it was difficult not to respond to a touch. He was definitely not immune to the thrill of watching another’s hands undoing the top button of his pants.

Her voice was honeyed and practiced, “What are you interested in?”

Silence. A quiet existence following the coming war. Someone soft and caring and not completely tainted by the wretched sins of the present state of Adrestia. Someone who when he looked upon them he did not see memories lost and a body distorted by torture. Someone whose face he could behold without flashbacks of the Insurrection. Simply, something a courtesan arranged by his father could never give him. So he said nothing as he undid the ties of her robe.

He did not care for the way his nerves hummed and teased him as he leaned in to break the pressure welling up within him by kissing her. He felt like one of those champagne bottles about to pop open to celebrate Adrestia Day. He felt like one that had been shaken with a cork just waiting to fly.

Her mouth tasted of fresh chewed peppermint and her lips were soft. In some ways it was like learning to speak a new language although this was a conversation without any words. Shamefully Hubert wished he had been the one who had removed her clothes as his fingers brushed her skin. His mind was awash with thoughts of undoing buttons, pushing up skirts, and pulling down stockings. He pulled back from kissing her and felt blindsided by the feeling of warmth in his face and through his front.

It was like his body was in bloom. “I appreciate feedback,” he said as she kissed at his neck.

“What kind?” She moaned it instead of speaking, and it rang so clearly false in his ears.

“Instructional, tell me if I am inept,” said Hubert. He could see the quiet mistrust in her eyes. Hubert began to unbutton his shirt, “I imagine you spend a great deal of time praising men with words they haven’t earned. I do not wish to be lied to. I do not have any experience with this, and I would appreciate it if you communicated what I am doing wrong.”

She looked uncomfortable as she tucked her extremely light hair behind one ear. She surveyed Hubert with her brown eyes darting over him rapidly. Her voice was quiet and a touch embarrassed, “You use too much tongue.” She looked at him apprehensively like he might grab or strike her, and Hubert expected that is what she had been trained to expect from her clients.

Hubert removed his shirt and nodded. He swallowed and attempted to kiss her with a little more restraint. He paused and looked at her, “Any better?”

“A little, try to follow my lead,” she urged as she gently pushed him onto his back.

He conceded that this was much different than with his hand. That almost seemed like a chore in comparison now, something to be done out of necessity like pressing his clothes or keeping his razor sharpened. This was like jumping full bodied into the sea after having learned to swim in a bathtub. Hubert felt like he’d been knocked down hard by a wave and release was finally coming up for air after too much time spent on the seafloor.

Afterward the courtesan studied him, “You shouldn’t hide your face with your hair like that.”

Hubert didn’t need hair advice. It did what it wanted, regardless of what he wanted. “Oh, and why is that?”

“Because you look interesting,” she said as she leaned her face against her fist. “You don’t look like everyone else in court, and that’s not a bad thing.” As she said it she smoothed the bangs from his face to expose both eyes to the world. “I like looking at you,” she murmured as her lips grazed his chin. For a split second his heart fluttered until Hubert reminded himself she was literally paid to compliment him. No one enjoyed looking at him; that’s how he’d gotten so good at blending in with the furniture. He was forgettable and easily ignored. It let him move through places without obstruction and gather information with ease. It was a look he cultivated on purpose.

The young woman grinned at his silence, “You should work on your conversation skills. Anyone can fuck me, but not everyone knows how to talk and listen. Hardly anyone makes me really laugh. That’s what girls really want.”

“Who said I’m interested in women?”

He felt her hand down on his cock, “You didn’t seem disinterested.”

 _Touche_. Hubert wasn’t honestly interested in anyone. He now understood how nice sex could be but he wasn’t suddenly bursting with the desire to love anyone. A small part of him had been hoping this little exchange might have awoken something inside him but he didn’t feel anything new. Hubert cleared his throat, “I believe I’ve done what I was brought here to do, I should be going.”

Her laughter was like a feather teasing at his skin, “Oh no, I was told the full treatment tonight. You’re my only booking.” She came to straddle his slim hips and winked, “I was told to teach you how to pull out in all kinds of positions and situations.” Hubert wasn’t going to Garreg Mach for another week, but he committed himself to being a good student.

Sex, in it’s various forms, felt good and was enjoyable. However, upon arriving at school Hubert was still Hubert. He didn’t care for his classmates, and besides he was too busy discretely planning a war to pursue sex. Sex was kind of like very dark chocolate; he craved it at times and he enjoyed the bitter taste when he got it, but he could also easily pass on it. Love, in contrast, was like sweets, an empty thing he didn’t crave at all, and because he didn’t like sweets, people assumed he also didn’t like dark chocolate. No one was offering him either, and that was fine. He tried to think on something else than memories of birthdays past. He focused instead on his mental to do list, the stained glass windows, and the words of the hymns filling his ears.

The little group sang for at least forty minutes until they had other places to be. Hubert was eager to get going himself but when he peeked again he noticed Mercedes had stayed behind to pray. She was sitting at the foot of the great pile of rubble that dominated the alter area. She wasn’t speaking, instead she was crying and Hubert felt sorry that she was sobbing on her birthday. He stayed still and silent while feeling like he was spying on something he shouldn’t but he couldn’t move without being caught.

Mercedes was here at her brother’s request. Hubert would have been fine ransoming her back to whatever other family she might have but Jeritza wanted her close. He thought it was safer for her to be with the Empire, probably so they would not have to risk fighting on opposing sides. However, Jeritza was also completely avoiding and ignoring his sister. Hubert considered whether he ought to just tell her, but he didn’t fancy getting on Jeritza’s bad side and he doubted it would help her mood. Jeritza served Edelgard, and Edelgard alone, a fact the Death Knight had reminded Hubert of down in the tunnels beneath the monastery. Hubert liked to think that Jeritza wouldn’t outright kill him, but he was the Death Knight after all. That was kind of his thing. So instead of saying anything, Hubert waited for Mercedes to leave.

Mercedes hadn’t felt this hopeless since fleeing the Bartels and running to Fhirdiad. She sat before the impossibly huge pile of debris that had come from the cathedral’s roof and knew that come rainy season in a few short months this place was going to be flooded. Everything was as ruined as this church.

Mercedes wanted to pray in silence but she was finding the words difficult to find and tears too easy. She opened her eyes and looked around the church. Pews were destroyed and floor candelabras were twisted and broken. She saw a massive chandelier that had come down, and a small detail caught her eye. Someone had gathered all the candles within reach and neatly stacked the unbroken ones. All the ones that had been snapped were carefully piled elsewhere. She stared at the piles and came to the realization that someone was slowly cleaning up the cathedral, a little bit at a time.

Mercedes sniffled and dried her eyes as she wondered who it could be and when they were doing it. Maybe hope wasn’t lost, maybe someone did still care. For the first time in the months since she’d been captured, Mercedes felt a small seed of healing planted in her heart. She wasn’t alone in this. She got herself up and considered the big pile of rubble. It was too big to tackle on her own, but perhaps in her free time, she too could come and help to restore this place. Every little bit helped.


	10. Emperor and Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first major battle following Garreg Mach takes the Empire forces into the Alliance, while the renegade blue lions track north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mild body horror

**Summer 1181**

“If Judith Daphnel will not entertain our requests, then I see no choice but to go pay a visit,” said Edelgard with an air of finality to her decision. “Perhaps once she sees our army she’ll take us seriously.” The war council room at Garreg Mach was large, but they all sat close together giving it an intimate feeling. Edegard sat at the head of the table, with Hubert and Ferdinand flanking her. Other members of Edelgard’s small council — Count Hevring, Count Bergliez, the Duke of Gerth, Lord Arundel — were either on assignment or in Enbarr. Enbarr was a safe city in terms of its location, but it was so damn far from everything else that it made for a poor permanent residence for this war. For now they were keeping the monastery, with their main forces stationed in the Bergliez lands.

“I think if we sent just a small party to talk, that might go better,” suggested Ferdinand. “She might be declining your invitation out of caution. You are an invading Emperor, what reason does she have to trust your hospitality? However, if we go to her and appealed to her good nature—”

“Good nature? She’s a storied warrior known for killing people,” said Edelgard. “She’s the Hero of Daphnel, not the Great Negotiator.”

Ferdinand looked peeved as he took a deep breath. “So that is it then? We march the full army towards Derdriu?”

“We already have inroads there through Gloucester and Ordelia, we should focus on turning the rest of the Alliance to our cause. The remaining lords of Leicester have more to gain siding with us than with the church,” said Hubert as he looked at the great big map spread out on the table. Edmund, Goneril, Riegan, those were the remaining big players.

“They don’t appear to see it that way,” said Ferdinand in a low voice. He sighed and put on a pleasant face, “Have you managed to locate Prince Dimitri yet?”

“He is still eluding us,” said Hubert as he stared at the area of the map north of Garreg Mach. No one had heard from Dimitri in almost four months. It was too much to hope that he was dead. No, likely he was deep in hiding, although to what end Hubert couldn’t guess. Hubert had barely been able to scratch the surface of Dimitri’s mind while in school, and the fact that he hadn’t gone straight to Fhirdiad like a good little prince only told Hubert that Dimitri was a potentially dangerous dark horse.

“I would not be surprised if his uncle has taken the chance to solidify his rule,” said Edelgard. “What a perfect opportunity to use confusion to dispose of an heir.”

Ferdinand looked offended by the notion, “Why do you think Duke Blaiddyd would want his nephew dead?”

“Because anyone in power wishes to stay in power,” said Edelgard as she folded her fingers together. “Speaking of which, what have learned about Rhea’s whereabouts?”

“She’s almost certainly in the Kingdom, likely towards the east, but it’s impossible to say precisely where,” said Hubert. If Rhea and Dimitri were together, that was its own kettle of fish.

“We should be sending a searching party,” said Petra. She had been a strategic new addition to these meetings. Given her skill and speed with a knife Hubert had, after much back and forth with the Emperor, finally made her Edelgard’s new personal body guard. Edelgard wanted to strengthen the relationship of Adrestia and Brigid, and Petra was eager to prove her worth. Hubert was cautiously optimistic that Petra wasn’t just a viper waiting to strike, she’d had plenty of chances so far that she hadn’t taken.

Edelgard looked up and regarded Petra with an unexpectedly appreciative look, “It is an excellent idea, but I would prefer you stay at my side. We could make use of our Kingdom assets, perhaps we should send Felix on a scouting trip.”

“I don’t know that he would come back,” grumbled Hubert. Felix was confusing. He did not appear to like the Kingdom, but he was far from in love with the Empire. “Ashe Ubert is a safer choice for such things. We could try to find both Rhea and Dimitri.”

“Dimitri’s retainer might be easier to locate, the Kingdom’s citizens may be more likely to rat out a Duscar born man than either Rhea or their prince,” mused Edelgard.

“His retainer, _Dedue_?” Ferdinand said it slowly as if disbelieving that she could not recall his name.

Edelgard turned a little red, “I merely misplaced his name.” She cleared her throat and stood. Hubert and Ferdinand both rose.

“It was a natural thing to overlook with everything on your plate,” said Hubert gently even though it was hard to accept that already she was forgetting classmates names in the few months that had passed. There had only been twenty-four others to remember, it was nothing, and yet to her it was almost impossible to keep track of all of them.

“Yes, well, I believe we have our plan ready, I will send word to Enbarr.” Edegard gave a polite bow to excuse herself lest she misspeak anymore.

“Why do you always do that?” asked Ferdinand after Petra and Edelgard were clear of the room.

“What?” Hubert felt heat creeping up his carotid as he anticipated the argument. This was much bigger than brushing off forgetting Dedue’s name. This was Ferdinand’s constant critique of Hubert’s service, or _disservice_ in Ferdinand’s opinion, to the Emperor.

“You always play up her memory like it is crystal clear, when anyone who has known her long enough knows she has a terrible time remembering things. She’d forget her own name if you didn’t constantly say Lady Edelgard this and Lady Edelgard that,” said Ferdinand as he started to do an unflattering imitation of Hubert.

“Is that why you must announce your identity every five minutes?” asked Hubert as his voice became bone dry.

Ferdinand rolled his eyes and folded his arms, “You appointed yourself her protector, but sadly no one is protecting her from you.”

Hubert’s jaw was clenching at Ferdinand’s accusation. He took a deep breath and debated the utility of even challenging Ferdinand’s insulting insinuation. When he said nothing, Ferdinand continued, “I cannot understand why you constantly stroke her ego, it is not as if she needs it. She would be better off knowing when she is wrong.”

“Wrong can be rather subjective don’t you think?”

“No. There is right, there is wrong, and there is the narrow space in between where you two think you live,” said Ferdinand as he tapped his foot loudly against the floor. “You let her think she is doing the right thing by letting her pardon people, and then you sneak behind her back and sign the orders for their deaths. Is that not what happened to your father?”

Hubert had taken the fall for that because there was no point in trying to pin it on Arundel. The creature had chosen a good and noble and host to occupy, and no one would believe he was just dropping members of the nobility like it were nothing. “So, what would you prefer I do? Follow her every order to the letter? Were you not last week accusing me of being unable to think for myself?”

“No, challenge her when she is wrong, but do it to her face instead of in your head,” said Ferdinand as he stared at Hubert.

“Fine, how would you handle things? Let’s pretend you’re daddy’s little Prime Minister, what do you do about men who rape their wives until they bear crested fruit? Because I believe your father rewarded at least one or two with a Minister position.”

“You are simply disgusting,” said Ferdinand. Hubert could practically feel Ferdinand’s judgment hitting him. “I am not denying the problems that exist in Fodlan, but a continental war to unify the place? Why? Why not strive for peaceful reforms?”

“Wars broke the place apart,” said Hubert. “Where was the peaceful reform then?”

“Hundreds of years ago, sure,” said Ferdinand.

“Ten years ago we were invaded by Dagda and Brigid and had to go to their shores to put a stop to it. Five years ago, unrest in the Kingdom led to a big massacre. One year ago schisms within the church led to the execution of bishops, and battles we had to fight in as students,” said Hubert. “Turmoil in the Alliance led to the assassination of Duke Riegan’s son. How many were killed in the Insurrection? Not just politicians, not just the Hresvelgs, but civilians? Tell me Ferdinand, why do you think peaceful reform has any chance of working in this world?”

“You did not even try it,” said Ferdinand with a disappointed stare.

“Well then, why don’t you try it for me and let me know how it goes,” said Hubert with a curt tone to signal that they conversation was through.

“If you would put me in charge of something, then I would,”

“Ah, so you need permission? Is that what’s stopping you from solving all our problems? Why do you assume Emperor Edelgard had any political agency before she had to take it by force from your father?” Hubert stared at Ferdinand and wished he could understand what was going on inside his head, “What do you think would have happened if she politely asked for power back?”

“Ionius’ rule was curtailed because he was abusing his power,” said Ferdinand.

“True,” Hubert couldn’t deny it. “I’m so grateful your noble incorruptible father took the helm. He didn’t abuse anyone at all, just, save for continuing experiments on children, leading to the direct creation of our Flame Emperor and this war.”

Ferdinand’s mouth was forming a grim line. “If I wanted to defend my father against your charges I would be home with him under house arrest. I am here because I thought Edelgard was looking for help, not an echo chamber.” This was how it always went, with them dancing circles around each other. Their arguments had become more eloquent over the years but the fight remained the same. Ferdinand saw the world as it could be, shiny and bright, and Hubert saw it as it was, dingy and indifferent to suffering.

***

Judith Daphnel did not wish to talk. Her army and the Empire engaged in an absolutely pointless scuffle on the border between Daphnel and Gloucester for two straight days. It ended in a draw and each army retreated into their territories to lick their wounds. Mercedes had not been on the battlefield, but from treating the wounded she wasn’t quite sure what had been achieved other than a body count.

Mercedes stretched and groaned as she and Linhardt wrapped up tending to the last of the wounded in their care. “Finally,” she said with relief. It had been a long battle, and a long clean up. She was ready to wash her face and just relax in her tent, maybe take a nap. They’d begin marching towards the center of the Gloucester lands soon enough to regroup and plan out the next move. Mercedes was of the opinion that as long as they focused on Leicester it meant they weren’t in Faerghus and that was ideal.

“We’re not done yet,” said Linhardt as he started pulling vulneraries into his kit.

“Excuse me?” Mercedes looked around the empty area and wondered what was left to do. Linhardt just gave a jerk of his head for Mercedes to follow him. They weaved through battalions and towards the main staging area. The strategy tent’s flaps were wide open and inside the top members of the strike force were reviewing the gains and losses of the day and discussing what to do next.

Linhardt slipped into the tent and Mercedes silently chased after him. Edelgard was being briefed on changes to troop numbers by Hubert, Ferdinand, and what appeared to be Caspar’s father. Lorenz did not look quite as splendid covered in blood spatter but from his stance one would think he was about to be announced in court. Mercedes did not envy this group; she was in need of a wash but they reeked of the battlefield. Mud, sweat, blood, and all other manner of body fluids were their perfume.

Linhardt tapped Hubert on the shoulder, “Come on, you’ve been avoiding me long enough.”

“I’m busy, can this not wait?” Hubert whispered with annoyance at the interruption. He didn’t look especially hurt to Mercedes eyes, just sweaty and grimy like the rest of them.

Linhardt gave him a damning stare, “No it cannot, tell me, how does your face feel?”

Hubert lightly touched his cheek and grimaced. He leaned over to the Emperor, “Excuse me your majesty I have a pressing matter to attend to.”

“Of course,” said Edelgard without looking up at him. “I’ll speak with you more on this later.”

“Thank you,” said Hubert with a bow before he began to speed walk from the tent. Mercedes had trouble keeping up as Linhardt and Hubert made for another tent.

This was where the Strike Force slept. Hubert paused outside one of the nondescript tents and patiently waited while Linhardt examined his face in the sunlight, “I don’t understand how you’re not writhing in pain right now.”

“It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks,” insisted Hubert. His eyes were tracing to Mercedes with suspicion, “Must we do this with an audience?”

“Yes, because if you’re going to continue to engage in this stupidity, she needs to learn how to treat it,” said Linhardt. The men went into the tent and Mercedes, still confused, followed.

Hubert’s face just looked a little hollow, no more than usual really, and dark in a spot as if he’d gotten a little smudge of ash on himself. Mercedes wasn’t sure why Linhardt was so concerned until he ordered Hubert’s gloves off. Mercedes gasped at the unexpected sight.

Hubert shut his eyes as Linhardt poked at the blackened, necrotic looking flesh with a metal probe. It was as if his skin had been charred off leaving behind only seeping weeping wounds. The swirling colors only made it worse. Beneath the charring there was the angry red of blood, oozing yellow pus, and the white where on the back on his hand Mercedes could see all the way to the bone. It was absolutely stomach turning.

“It’s getting worse,” said Linhardt with a sharp glare towards Hubert.

“How, what,” she stammered as she searched for words to express her disbelief. Weakly she wondered if they were here to amputate his hands.

“Dark magic,” muttered Hubert.

Linhardt’s face poorly hid his disgust at the vile sight as he started dumping vulneraries into a basin. “This is going to take a while, so if you must do anything with those things, do it now.”

Hubert sighed and nodded. He pulled his gloves back on, “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

When he had cleared the tent Mercedes looked at Linhardt in shock, “How is he still using those?”

“It’s magic, it just looks disfiguring, he insists he’s not in pain, but, watch his face when I go to poke the sores, you can see it in his eyes how much it hurts,” whispered Linhardt.

“But, but he’s not the only person doing dark magic. Lysithea’s hands definitely never looked like that,” whispered Mercedes in shock.

“Thanks to her crest,” said Hubert as he came back in the tent looking put off and buttoning his fly. He’d discarded his jacket and was now rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing that the grizzled skin extended up his forearms. “Dark magic chips away at the caster, a crested individual is much more resilient to these lovely effects.” He pulled his gloves free and regarded his appendages indifferently.

“Then why do you do it at all?”

Hubert declined to answer as he dipped his hands into the basin. Linhardt was now dabbing a vulnerary soaked cloth onto Hubert’s cheek. Linhardt was frowning, “If it’s starting to affect your face that’s not good. You need to relax with it, use some black magic for a change.”

“I’m fine,” said Hubert even as the healing potion hissed and cracked on his skin.

“Is that what your face is going to look like?” demanded Mercedes, still having trouble looking at his hands.

“Why do you think dark mages wear those masks or those veils into battle?” Hubert’s intense stare was trained on her as if waiting for her to react with revulsion.

“If that’s the case why does anyone use dark magic?” She had wanted to learn, but now she definitely did not.

“Because sometimes that’s the only magic you can use,” said Hubert. He sighed and stretched his submerged fingers. They were looking a little better, “Besides, it can be treated.”

“For now,” said Linhardt with a sharp tone. “You’re going to get permanent damage if you do this every battle. You better hope for a short war.”

Hubert shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath, “Thank you Linhardt.” His words were more glowering than grateful.

Linhardt scoffed with contempt and then looked at Mercedes, “So to treat this you going to want to just do a repetitive heal spell cycle until he looks palatable again—”

“You’re leaving?” asked Mercedes as she watched him picking up his things. Why did she have to deal with Hubert’s disgusting self inflicted dark magic wounds by herself?

“Yes, I have to go tend to the Emperor,” said Linhardt. He gave a passing look at Hubert, who still had his eyes shut and his jaw clenched, and then back at Mercedes with an apologetic expression. Mercedes didn’t especially fancy having to treat whatever weird quirks Edelgard might have hidden away, so necrotic rotting hands it was.

Mercedes took a seat at Hubert’s little folding work table and looked at his arms. It was like he was a reptile shedding his skin and big gross flakes were coming off and floating in the basin. She couldn’t see the bone anymore though and the discoloration was getting better. She was a professional, she could handle some heavy smells and sights as long as she kept her mind on other things.

Mercedes brought her hands up and tried to focus on something nice as she started her healing spell. She tried to concentrate on what she had felt watching Annie and Felix nervously interacting on their date and how charming it had been to watch their little courtship. She tried her best not to think about how apart they were now.

“Your magic is warm,” muttered Hubert. He almost sounded surprised.

“Isn’t Linhardt’s?” Mercedes much preferred him jaw clenched and silent, but she would entertain his small talk.

“Not especially. His faith is in science and it makes his magic rather tepid,” said Hubert. He watched the green magic circle lighting up, “Your magic feels more like a,” he paused and looked a little embarrassed he’d opened his mouth at all, “It feels like eating a fresh loaf of bread just out of the oven.”

“Your magic felt like grabbing a fistful of snow without gloves,” said Mercedes as she thought back to the icy burning sensation of getting hit with Miasma back when she’d tried to escape her capture.

Hubert had the audacity to smirk, “I do not think I’ve ever spoken to someone after using magic on them. Thank you for the insight.”

Mercedes frowned and focused on healing. “Why don’t you just use black magic?”

His annoying smirk was gone. “I would but I can barely light my candles with a fire spell let alone kill someone on the battlefield.”

She recalled him being condescending towards black magic back in school, “I thought you said any fool could do black magic, didn’t you call it innate?”

“I used to be able to do it,” growled Hubert. “I just can’t anymore.”

“Maybe you should try harder?” suggested Mercedes as another gross burned patched flaked off to reveal angry taught pink skin beneath it. “I don’t understand how you can live like this.” She worked for what felt like forever until Hubert’s hands no longer looked like he was a shambling corpse. They didn’t look normal but they merely appeared irritated rather than gangrenous.

She grabbed a towel left out by Linhardt and plucked Hubert’s nearest arm from the basin. He looked at her in confusion as she started to check it over, pressing and poking, to make sure she hadn’t missed any spots. She massaged his right hand and started testing the bend of his fingers. “Why does this happen? Why don’t people warn about this?” She would remember if a book had casually mentioned ones hands and face would rot off if they used dark magic.

“It’s only when you kill someone with a spell that this happens,” said Hubert as he stared at her hands massaging the angry pink patches on his arms. “I’ve seen it described as punishment from your Goddess. Apparently it’s fine to kill someone with a faith spell like Nosferatu, but the minute you kill with dark magic, well,” he curled his fingers into a fist.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the goddess,”

“Belief, or lack thereof, has little effect on whether or not something is real,” said Hubert in a dry and cynical voice. No wonder he couldn’t do faith magic. “All I know is that when I take down an enemy with dark magic, this happens and it builds over time. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your point of view, I still have a few years before it hits my heart. That’s when things pass the point of fixing. That’s how it kills you.” He took the towel and began to dry off his left arm. “Thank you for healing me.”

Mercedes didn’t feel like she’d been given much of a choice on the matter, therefore a ‘ _you’re welcome_ ’ didn’t sit right on her tongue. She’d be lying if she said ‘ _my pleasure_ ’. So instead she tried to focus on being nice, and killing him with kindness rather than giving in to her displeasure with having to work with the Empire, “Do you want tutoring in black magic?”

“Excuse me?” Hubert sounded absolutely incredulous at the offer.

“Well since you’re so bad at it, I thought you might like help,” she said sweetly as she got up to pack away the leftover healing potions. She’d let him handle the clean up of the bowl with all his disgusting molting skin flakes. “I know you’ve decided to stick me into a healing role, but, I am a decent battle mage. I could probably teach you something. Even if it’s just practical things like lighting your candles.”

Hubert sighed as he got up and picked up the basin. He looked down at her with a slight curl to his lip, “Noted Ms. von Martritz. You’re dismissed.” Mercedes did not need to be told twice as she eagerly took her leave.

***

The hour was late as Hubert entered Edelgard’s tent. It was truly a mobile abode fitting an emperor, with a tall ceiling and a nice bright lantern in the middle. It was cozy and comfortable, with lots of soft furnishings to offset Edelgard’s sharpness. Edelgard was sitting comfortably on some cushions, crown off and hair down, in her sleep clothes. Hubert bowed stiffly as she opened her eyes, and a small smile crossed her lips.

“Your majesty,” he said as he straightened up. “I trust Linhardt was able to treat you to your satisfaction?”

“You make it sound like he was getting me off, not putting me back together,” said Edelgard with a bitter laugh as she sat up and sighed.

“The anomaly is _quiet_ I take it?” Hubert asked carefully. The nature of her second crest was dangerous; her siblings that had received the crest of flames had one by one been consumed by its instability. When that happened they had imploded into horrific monsters — great scaly creatures with long raking fingers and naked bony wings, a perversion of the flesh and distortion of the soul — and had to be put down. Edelgard alone had proved strong enough to keep her anomaly contained for more than few passing minutes. Minutes had turned into hours, into days, and now years but each and every battle tested that control. There was a chance she was going to crack and change, and Hubert dreaded the arrival that day with every fiber of his being. The averse affects of Hubert’s dark magic could be healed away to a point, but if Edelgard turned, there was no changing her back.

Edelgard yawned and made space for him to sit beside her. Hubert carefully brushed his fingers through her hair as she rested her body against him, “What would you like to hear about tonight my lady?”

“Will you tell me about my sister again? The older one, Adelynn was it?”

“Adelheid, third child, last of her mother, the Empress,” whispered Hubert as he rattled off facts. “She was always around her two older brothers Ionius and Emmerich.” The three of them were all crested and shining examples of good imperial breeding and training. They had been saved for last in the experiments, with the younger crestless children serving as test subjects. Ionius was always meant to be the Flame Emperor, but either of his full siblings would have served just fine in his place. Edelgard, the youngest crested child, was a last ditch effort to make things work.

“She had hair like mine, and gray eyes, didn’t she?” Edelgard’s own violet eyes, the ones she got from her mother’s side of the family, were looking up at Hubert now.

Hubert swallowed rather than speak. Adelheid’s hair had been a deep green like her mother’s, a Hevring of some fashion, and she had born the crest of Cethleann. The light brown haired ones were from the next consort, some Bergliez cousin, but Edelgard’s only memories of her siblings were fragments or of what they became in the bowels of the palace. “Correct as usual your majesty,” he said as he lightly rubbed her shoulder.

“Can you miss someone even if you don’t know who they were?” asked Edelgard quietly.

“Yes, I believe you can,” said Hubert. He missed his mother, or the concept of her, even though he’d never met her. He wished his father had bothered to learn anything about her at all, but that chance for that was all long gone. Hubert liked to imagine she took the money and made a nice life for herself, with a tight knit and loving family, though knowing the way of Enbarr she was probably just dead in some unmarked grave.

“I miss a boy,” whispered Edelgard as her tears began to wet through Hubert’s uniform.

“One of your brothers?” Hubert knew her memories of the brothers closer in age to her were clearest.

“No, no I don’t think he was my brother. I think he was someone I met when I lived with my uncle, a friend,” said Edelgard with a defeated sigh. “I know you can’t help me with those memories, but sometimes I dance with him in my dreams.”

“That sounds like a lovely memory your majesty,” said Hubert with a quiet pain that this was yet another problem of hers he was powerless to solve. There was only one thing he could do for her in this moment, “Would you like to dream now?”

Edelgard nodded and dried her eyes as she got up to get into her bed. Hubert went to a cabinet and produced a draught to quietly mix in her evening tea. He made sure to add in extra honey to help mask the bitterness of the sleeping potion. It helped to keep her dreams calm and pleasant. When she did not take it she risked nightmares of gnawing rats and the crazed and dying screams of her monstrous siblings. She was trying to confront those memories and uncover more, but on nights like this when the day had been filled with violence and battle, it was best to just let her go into a peaceful state and wake refreshed and recharged.

Hubert presented Edelgard her calming cup of herbal tea and took his usual seat at the edge of her bed as she drank it. He collected back the cup and saucer as she settled in.

“Thank you Hubert,” murmured Edelgard as her voice grew thick and drowsy.

“Always my lady,” he said as he watched her face beginning to relax. Edelgard let out a long low sigh as she shut her eyes. Hubert stayed perfectly still until her breathing changed in a way that signaled she was under. He carefully got up and cleaned up the tea, and extinguished the lanterns in her tent.

Hubert returned to his own dark tent and grabbed his matches. He paused and focused on his hand as he tried to generate a basic flame. The most he managed was a little spark. Black magic just reminded him of what was lost. Eventually Hubert gave up and went to sleep.

***

Ingrid was reading over the latest news from the Alliance with increasing alarm and annoyance etched on her face. “They attacked Daphnel, that’s right next to Galatea!” The trio had only just arrived to Felix’s family home at about the same time as a messenger from Leicester.

“They appear to be focusing on the Alliance,” said Rodrigue as he stared in the direction of Daphnel. He looked back at Ingrid and Sylvain, “And no word from Dimitri?”

“None,” said Ingrid. They’d had no word from anyone really, the roads were not well traveled and people appeared to be hunkering down and readying to defend the border.

Rodrigue obvious knew the Gautiers and the Galateas quite well and Annette was feeling like a stranger intruding on this group. “I hope Felix is okay,” she said as she tried her best to contribute to the conversation.

Rodrigue looked more disappointed than worried to Annette. The Duke shook his head, “I can’t believe he allowed himself to be captured.”

Sylvain put a reassuring hand on Annie’s shoulder, “Knowing Felix they’ve probably already set him loose just to get him out of their hair.” He chuckled but Annie very much doubted that, and didn’t appreciate the joke.

Rodrigue gave Sylvain a pointed look as if to say he did not find it funny either. He looked back at Ingrid instead, “I will send troops to your family’s lands, it’s going to be critical to hold the border at Galatea and Ailell. I will personally be traveling to Fhirdiad to appeal to Duke Rufus to make a formal response to this declaration of war, although I think his focus is drawn west thanks to those traitors in Gaspard. They last thing we need is them taking Arianrhod, or Charon as revenge.”

“Thank you, the Galatea’s appreciate your support,” said Ingrid with a formal bow. “I hope we will be able to meet again in Fhirdiad.”

“Good luck as you head up to the Gautier lands, I’ve heard Sreng is taking this an opportunity to lay siege on the border,” said Rodrigue.

“Great, I’m sure my old man is lovin’ that,” said Sylvain under his breath.

Annie wondered if anything at all was going good in the world. Luckily one thing went right, Rodrigue generously gave them horses and extra supplies, so the trip up to Gautier was looking like it would be much more pleasant than the trip between Galatea and Fauldarius.

In the meantime they were getting a chance to rest and recover. Annie was secretly fascinated to be in Felix’s home, even though she would have much preferred to be here with him. Sylvain was a doing his best to be a good guide, “And this is Felix’s bedroom.” He wagged his eyebrows at her, “Where no magic has ever happened.”

Annie was shocked by how posh it looked, “He didn’t decorate this, did he?” It was hard to picture Felix having the eye to dress a place with such a refined palate. She just assumed his bed was a nest of swords or something, not this grandiose four poster draped in navy velvet and plenty of fringed and tasseled throw pillows.

“Oh no, I think his mom has uh, creative control of this place,” said Sylvain.

“Where is his mom?” Annie was almost afraid to ask. She dreaded when people would ask after her father after his departure. If Duchess Fraldarius was here, she would have certainly received them already. Felix didn’t talk much about his parents but Annie knew they were both alive.

“She’s in Fhirdiad,” said Ingrid with a hint of reservation. “After, after the Tragedy she moved to court permanently.”

“Oh,” said Annie.

“Hey maybe we’ll meet up with her when we go to the capital,” suggested Sylvain brightly. “She’s cool, she taught Felix how to use a sword.”

“Really? I just assumed his dad did,” said Annie as she wondered what Felix’s sword swinging mom looked like. From the fancy decorations around this place she’d assumed that Duchess Fraldarius was extremely feminine and a classic picture of nobility.

“Nah, Rodrigue uses magic mostly,” said Sylvain. “Enora is a rapier wielding sword master. She used to guard the queen consort.”

“Was she at the Tragedy too?” asked Annie quietly.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this,” said Ingrid as she pulled the door to Felix’s room shut. She continued on towards the guest rooms they’d be staying in.

Annie felt like she’d just really put her foot in her mouth. Sylvain gave her an understanding look, “Ingrid’s just sensitive about all this. I think being here is really hard for her.”

Annie nodded; Ingrid was at one time going to be the next Duchess Fraldarius. Annie was just glad that they were staying one night and getting back on the road. Sylvain gestured for her to walk with him after Ingrid. He sank his hands into his pockets, “But, to answer your question though, Enora was there that day. Dimitri’s step mom urged her to go protect him, and when all was said and done, Patricia was gone without a trace and I don’t think Enora has ever forgiven herself for losing her son and her queen in one go.” Sylvain’s explanation left Annie with far more questions than answers, but the way in which he’d spoke suggested this was not the place to ask too much about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enora means honor


	11. Braided Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes is trying to figure out who she is and what her faith now means. She takes any chance she gets to do some good, even if it's small, like giving Hubert a homework assignment: compliment three people. 
> 
> The Blue Lion Road Trip trio reach the Gautier territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: brief reference to a suicide

**Summer 1181**

Thank the Goddess for rivers, thought Mercedes as she twisted her wet blond hair into a bun. She was clean, her military uniforms were laundered and drying, and she’d actually gotten a decent meal for once. The Adrestians were camping near the capital of the Gloucester’s territory and Mercedes was so happy to have a day to rest after all that marching. Ferdinand sweetly helped her set up her tent, Bernadetta nabbed some extra dessert to share, and Mercedes latest stolen library book was proving quite entertaining. Little by little she was feeling more like herself, even as the world around her became more and more unrecognizable.

Mercedes didn’t like being in this war, but she liked the alternative — shutting down like her mother — even less. In the past when life had given her problems she had run. She had run from the terror that was the Bartels, she had run from her inability to help her mother, and she had run from a crumbling relationship. If she really committed herself, she was sure she could run from this war too. However, she could not run from the big stain of doubt upon her faith that seeing Seiros transform and rampage had wrecked in her heart. That was something she couldn’t shake, clean or mend. It was something she had to confront head on.

For years Mercedes had trusted the will of the Goddess to guide her. She believed the Goddess carried her from the Bartels and then to Fhirdiad when her mother had begun mentally slipping away. The Goddess had led her to the Church where they found sanctuary. The Goddess had given Mercedes a second chance at a family, a place at school, a best friend, and eventually a love. By that logic though the Goddess had also given her heartbreak, and plenty of it. Eventually Mercedes had started to take the chance to exert a small amount of control over her life rather than just trusting the Goddess to set everything right. That had taken her to Garreg Mach, and no small part of her struggled to understand what of that path had been her doing instead of divine intervention. Now with what was happening between the Church and the Empire, Mercedes wasn’t confident at all that the Goddess would or could do anything about it. For a long time Mercedes had felt like a tiny and sometimes insignificant part of a greater whole within the Church, but these days she was wondering if she didn’t have more to consciously contribute.

She still prayed to the Goddess, but she was attempting to re-balance her outlook on what the Goddess did and didn’t do. Mercedes was trying out little changes, like doing things because they made her happy not because Seiros mandated it. Being kind felt good and was the right thing to do just because, and the more people she could get to see that, the better. As for trusting in the Goddess’ will, well, Mercedes was working up her courage to trust in her own decisions. She was learning to recognize how she shaped her own life, rather than praying to be pulled along as but a piece in a larger puzzle. It was difficult at times, but she was adjusting. She was stuck with the Empire whether she liked it or not, and she was going to do whatever she could to make things better rather than worse.

Little things like old hobbies helped Mercedes feel more at peace despite the war. She and Bernadetta often sat together to quietly sew and that’s how they were spending this particularly pleasant summer afternoon. Mercedes had started taking clothing commissions to earn some money for herself, and she was presently working on a comfortable flowing set of robes for Linhardt. She had also begun to draft herself a proper new dress to wear on these days off. She had big plans for the dress she was slowly beginning to work on. She wasn’t super thrilled that the only colors of fabric she’d been able to score were custard and brown, but they were practical and she’d always looked good in warm tones. The brown would hide dirt and besides whites rarely stayed that way for long. She dreamed of what sort of notions Michel would have to suit her project and wistfully hoped her mother and adoptive father were taking her advice and going on a nice extended vacation away from Fhirdiad.

Bernadetta was humming as she embroidered her own new bold purple outfit. The women had spread their crafts out on a nice grassy knoll and were enjoying the late summer sun. Bernadetta shivered, “Do you feel that unseasonable chill, it’s almost like the breath of death itself—”

A shadow passed over them and Bernadetta looked up in shock and fear. Hubert was extending a needle towards her, “Excuse me, I think you dropped this in the cook tent.”

Bernadetta moved fast and her hood was up over her head in the blink of an eye, “I didn’t do it! I didn’t steal any of that pudding!”

Hubert glanced at Mercedes in confusion, and then back at Bernadetta, “I do not believe—”

“You don’t believe me! Well, you’ll have to catch me, Bernie’s not going down for this,” cried Bernadetta as she snatched up her project and sprinted down the hill.

Hubert exhaled and looked at the needle in his hands. Mercedes gestured for him to hand it to her, “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“Thank you,” said Hubert as he stared at the part of her project she was currently working on — intricate gold embroidery on Linhardt’s new sleeves — and back at her, “Forgive my intrusion, but, are you busy?”

Mercedes had hours of stitching left, yes, she was a touch busy but it wasn’t as if she was going to try to finish this all at once, “What do you need?”

“I would like to take you up on you offer of help with my magic,” said Hubert. The words came out like he was practicing a foreign language.

Mercedes paused her stitching and carefully tucked her needle safely into a little piece of felt, “You sound like you don’t ask for help often.”

Hubert had look on his face that could curdle milk — good thing she and Bernadetta had enjoyed that stolen pudding already — as he looked down at her on the ground, “If it was not a real offer and you are just having fun at my expense, I will take my leave.”

Mercedes sighed, “It was a real offer, but learning to loosen up and relax wouldn’t hurt.”

Hubert flinched at the suggestion. “This was stupid, I should go,” he hissed under his breath.

Mercedes patted the ground beside her as she had when they were practicing faith spells all the way back in the bitter cold of Guardian Moon. “I don’t understand how you got through Hanneman’s class not doing a single black magic battle spell.”

Hubert took a seat and sat cross legged on the ground, “Hanneman has tried to dissuade me from using dark magic but, at the end of the day, it’s my life not his.”

“Well you don’t seem to care very much for it,” said Mercedes as she took care in folding up the sleeves she was working on.

Hubert said nothing in response to her charge. He did not look particularly upset or shamed by it either. Mercedes folded her hands together as she considered how to help someone, especially a stubborn someone known to have a ill temper, with spell work, “How were you introduced to magic?”

“My grandfather started to teach me when I was young,” said Hubert as he stared in the direction of the Adrestian war camp.

Mercedes hummed as she recalled being taught faith magic when she was ten by the nuns and monks of the church she ended up living at. “What spells did you learn?”

“Fire, wind, thunder, just basic spells mostly,” said Hubert. “I have an old tome in my trunk.”

“Oh wonderful,” said Mercedes, it was much easier to teach with a textbook compared to just verbally. “If you’ve already learned something like fire, maybe it’s just an issue of practicing!”

“Maybe,” said Hubert as if to insinuate that practicing wasn’t the problem.

“I’m free in the evenings if you want to drop by with your tome,” offered Mercedes. “I’m always happy to practice black magic, and you know Hanneman and Dorothea might as well if you would feel more comfortable with them around.”

“I’d rather embarrass myself in front of as few people as possible,” said Hubert.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed in front of friends,” said Mercedes with gentle encouragement. Mostly, she wanted some levity to offset working with Hubert and she figured more people present would help with that.

“Clearly you have not made a mistake in front of Dorothea,” mused Hubert with a snort. “You should hear her go off on Ferdinand, it puts my bickering with him to shame.”

“She’s a little different with women,” smiled Mercedes. The treatment Dorothea gave to someone like Ingrid was starkly different from the likes of Felix. “Well, I suppose she does treat Ashe like a little baby—”

Hubert was cringing as he chuckled at the thought. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?” asked Mercedes as she picked her embroidery back up.

“For agreeing to help me,” said Hubert as he watched her. “If you would like anything in return, please let me know and I’ll see what I can do for you, within reason.”

He probably wasn’t going to just let her go home to Fhiridad in exchange for a little tutoring. She’d have to think of something smaller and more realistic. Mercedes shrugged, “Helping is what I do.” Even if that meant helping disagreeable people. Besides, this was self serving, the less she had to see his gross dark magic hands the better. “You know it’s not bad to ask for help when you need it.”

Hubert stared at her for a few beats, “It’s easier to ask for help when you suspect people will say yes.”

“Yes, that’s why people rely on their friends,” said Mercedes.

Hubert gave a passing look down to the war camp. “ _Friends_ , right, well, I don’t need to tell you that I’m not good at making them.”

Mercedes hummed because agreeing that he was in fact terrible at it was extremely rude. She tried to spin something positive out of it. “You clearly care about helping people improve themselves, but, the way you go about it is too harsh. I think if you were to soften, just a bit, in your delivery, people would receive you better,” said Mercedes. “Like with Linhardt for instance—”

“Linhardt is lazy and unfocused, he wastes his potential,” said Hubert. His words were biting with his contempt for Linhardt’s conduct.

Mercedes winced, “Yes, you’ve expressed that, to him, many times. Perhaps you could instead compliment the things you find positive about him.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because compliments make people feel nice about themselves and nicer towards you,” said Mercedes. “And it motivates them! People love positive feedback about what they’re doing right. It encourages them to keep doing it.”

Hubert frowned. “So, you’re suggesting I manipulate him into working through praise?”

“Manipulate sounds, um, not quite what I was thinking, but sure, think of it as cheering him on,” said Mercedes with a bright enthusiasm to her words.

“I am not one for compliments,” said Hubert as he folded his arms.

“That’s not true! You compliment Edelgard all the time,” protested Mercedes. He did it ad nauseum. “Try that, but with other people.” Mercedes sat up a little straighter, “You can practice on me.”

Hubert studied at her for a few moments, “You have nice eyes.”

“Boo,” jeered Mercedes with disappointment. “Don’t focus on a physical attribute I can’t control. It makes people feel like a commodity when someone compliments them just for how they naturally look or their crest or something to that effect. Now if you said, Mercedes, the way you’ve do your make up really highlights the beauty of your eyes, that would make me very pleased because I probably worked hard to apply it.”

“You’re wearing make up?” He squinted at her face.

“Not at the moment, no, but when I want to feel and look special, I take time to put some on,” said Mercedes. “Don’t get caught up in the details! Focus on your task.”

Hubert sighed, “Right. Eh, you, are, nice to people?”

“Boo! That’s just a statement, you need to layer a good compliment, you should reference a specific time I’ve been nice that you took note of.” Compliments were a true art form to Mercedes. A well placed pinch of praise could really turn someone’s day from bad to great.

Hubert looked extra unamused as he gave a sigh and spoke in a stiff voice, “Fine. Mercedes, I admire your ability to be kind to people you don’t like, and we could all aspire to be a bit more like you.” He really needed to work on his tone, but at the least the words were promising.

Mercedes clapped, “See was that really that painful?”

“Excruciating,” said Hubert dryly.

Mercedes smiled anyway. “If I’m going to help you, what I want in return is for you to give three honest, earnest compliments to people you have previously been mean to.”

“I’ve been mean to everyone,” said Hubert without even so much as an ounce of humor. “How will I possibly choose a victim to besiege with kind words?”

“If you must be given explicit directions then I want you to compliment Caspar, Linhardt, and _Ferdinand_ ,” said Mercedes. She watched his eyes light up with rage at the mention of Ferdinand, which was precisely why she picked him. “Do that, report back, and then I’ll help you with your magic.”

***

Hubert figured he’d start with Caspar since of Mercedes’ three picks, Caspar annoyed him least. Caspar was on his surface the most annoying of them, but with the least number of infuriating attributes and somehow this balanced out in Hubert’s mental scales. Caspar concentrated all his offenses into a limited number of traits: he was loud, and he was dense sometimes. However, otherwise, Caspar was a valued member of the team because he was strong, enthusiastic, and when given a task he would see it through. He cared about people and worried about disappointing them. Minus the yelling and the sometimes bone-headed moves, Caspar was perhaps Hubert’s favorite male strike force member.

“Caspar,” said Hubert as he sat down with the youth at lunch.

“Hubert,” returned Caspar in a similarly affected serious tone. It melted away almost instantly, “What’s up?”

Hubert cleared his throat and prepared himself to be nice. “You did well in the last battle. I appreciated the way you kept your voice down.”

Caspar screwed up his face, “Only ‘cause I had a sore throat from yelling too much the day before. I think I did worse personally.”

“Yes, but you were stealthy on the battlefield, and you were able to sneak up on our enemies better,” said Hubert with consternation at Caspar’s refusal of the compliment.

“Yeah that felt terrible,” said Caspar as he dug into his lunch – Leicester style casserole – and stuffed his face. He continued to talk as he chewed, “Nothing worse than backstabbing.”

“Well, I think backstabbing has a time and a place,” said Hubert, who was of the opinion that delivering a back stab was preferable to a front stab for almost any situation.

Caspar swallowed and shook his head, “If I’m going to kill someone, I want them to know it was me, ya know?”

No. Hubert did not share that sentiment, but it was a moot point. “Good talk Caspar,” said Hubert as he mentally checked one attempted compliment off his list.

Linhardt was next. Hubert caught him with a book under a tree taking a nap. Hubert nudged Linhardt with his boot. The snoozing healer’s eyes fluttered open and settled on his compliment-assailant. “Oh wonderful, you’re awake,” said Hubert dryly as he stared down at the healer.

“Apparently,” grumbled Linhardt before stretching and yawning. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to tell you, that, I think you have an exceptional mind, and talents that many, myself included, will never rise up to attain.” It was probably the best non-Edelgard directed compliment Hubert had choked out in years.

Linhardt stared at him with intense skepticism. “Are you complimenting me?”

“I am trying to, if you would let me finish—”

“I should study this phenomenon instead of crests. What a truly novel occurrence, tell me, do you have a fever?” asked Linhardt with a clinical curiosity.

Hubert flared his nostrils as he attempted not to grimace. Linhardt wasn’t done, “Maybe I’m still dreaming and this isn’t real at all. Hubert von Vestra giving me a compliment? Maybe it’s a sign of the end times.” He was making himself ooze with chortles in a most unbecoming way. “I bet the last time you paid someone other than Edelgard a compliment, Brigid was a free state—”

Hubert felt a rage headache creeping along the top of his head and down into his brow, “This is why I haven’t an ounce of respect for you. You’re always wasting your talents like this. If you were capable of applying yourself to a real problem as well as you are applying yourself to mocking me, maybe you would actually get something useful done for once in your life.”

Linhardt smirked and let a small laugh, “Ah, there it is. Good, for a second I thought you were actually growing fond of me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Hubert liked Linhardt, in theory, the good parts anyway. Right now he wanted to throttle him, but not to death. That had to count for something. “Would that be such a crime?” demanded Hubert.

“What and have your rapt attention focused in on me? No thank you, besides I am seeing someone, so you’re too late,” announced Linhardt with a lazy infuriating smile.

“Wha—” Hubert faltered at the shift in the conversation. “I’m not, I’m not flirting with you. I am trying to be nice and be your friend.” He cringed internally at his own awkward delivery because he sounded distinctly not nice and extremely unfriendly.

Linhardt frowned and sat up straight, “Oh Goddess, Hubert, are you finally dying and trying to make your peace with everyone?”

Hubert took an exceptionally deep breath and tried to compose himself, but found he could not. He walked away instead as Linhardt’s lackadaisical farewell burned in his ears.

Last and least was Ferdinand. Hubert deposited his dinner tray across from Ferdinand, probably with an unnecessary amount of aggression, and took his seat. Curse this assignment, and curse Mercedes. He had been trying to come up with a proper compliment for Ferdinand for days.

Ferdinand cleared his throat, “Hubert. I am reserving that seat for someone else.”

 _Fuck off Ferdinand_. Hubert made a big show of looking around the nearly empty mess tent, “And who, pray tell, are you waiting upon?”

Ferdinand went slightly crimson and dropped the point, “So you are going to eat with me? Silently I hope?”

Hubert started to focus on cutting his food, “Yes, if you are not so offended by my presence that you feel I must leave, I would like to eat with you.”

Ferdinand’s gaze narrowed in as he sipped his tea and watched Hubert carefully. “It would be rude for me to ask you to leave assuming you are sitting here in good faith.”

“If you are anything, it is a good noble,” said Hubert with a stony expression plastered on his face. He didn’t even attempt to smile, because he knew it would come off as false. “I am impressed that you are still competing with Emperor Edelgard, though she surpasses you in nearly every respect. However, I have identified the one area in which you are superior.”

Ferdinand’s eyes bulged as he set down his teacup, “Dare I ask what that would be?”

Hubert cracked his mental knuckles as he prepared to slap Ferdinand with this honest-to-goodness sincere compliment. “Positivity, you are relentlessly optimistic. I was reminded of this during our argument over what to do about Judith von Daphnel. Following that disaster of a battle, I concede that your approach may have spared us losses, and I will try better to listen to your suggestions in the future,” said Hubert as he stared at Ferdinand, who was going from looking confused to uncertain to suspicious.

“What?”

Hubert inhaled and prepared himself to just absolutely destroy Ferdinand with his kind words, “You are constantly striving to grow as a person. You seek new knowledge. You push limits. When others get distracted or abandon a path, you never ever yield. In these respects, you are unrivaled and without parallel.”

Ferdinand’s mouth hung open in an ignoble and surprised way. “Are you all right? Linhardt suggested you were on your deathbed, but I thought he was joking—”

He wanted to quip back something mean, but more people were coming into the mess tent, including Mercedes, and Hubert had a feeling she’d have more than a critique for him if he messed this up so publicly. “It was merely a compliment. There is no need to be so dramatic,” said Hubert stiffly, as he tried his best not to snipe or scold.

“Dramatic?” Ferdinand sounded offended by the accusation.

“Yes. You’re dramatic. I do my best to analyze others without any emotion clouding my judgment. Even if I subjectively find you to be a contemptible degenerate, I am still able to evaluate your good qualities impartially,” said Hubert as he laid out the most honest assessment of his feelings that he could to Ferdinand.

“So, because you assess others without emotion, you are confident in your appraisals?” clarified Ferdinand. He gave Hubert a measured once over, “Perhaps I have been wrong about you.”

Hubert felt a strange sensation on his lips: a smile. A small one, but a real one, “Heh, well, you actually understand.”

“Please do not compliment me again though, it is unsettling,” said Ferdinand with distaste. “Like a snake singing an aria, no thank you. If you must, please, send one by letter or missive.”

Hubert’s eye twitched at the dramatic addition Ferdinand couldn’t help but tack on to an otherwise successful conversation, “Do not fret, it is highly unlikely there will be a next time.” Three compliments completed, and it hadn’t even killed him.

***

“Ah, why?!” Annette screamed out as the lance almost sliced her nose off.

“Again!” yelled Ingrid as she reset her stance.

Annette looked at the sky and asked the Goddess silently, Why me?, as she got her axe up again. Ingrid wanted to train every time they took a rest, which rather defeated the purpose of stopping in the first place. Unfortunately they were taking more and more breaks as they got closer to Sylvain’s home. It was almost like he didn’t want to get there at all.

“Because we can’t,” _swing_ , “Rely,” _jab_ , “on the,” _thrust_ , “Alliance!” _Block_. Ingrid wiped her brow and gave Annette an encouraging nod, “You’re getting better, but you need to be battle ready for when the Empire gets here.”

Annie wasn’t afraid of battle, but she was inclined to stick with magic over this axe. There was a chance her uncle wouldn’t hand over Crusher, and he’d be well within his rights to keep it. Hopefully she could get good enough to convince him to pass it down and let her leave with it. Oh goddess, what if she had to steal it! Annie buried that thought away and hoped things wouldn’t come to that.

“Ladies, your campfire awaits,” said Sylvain as he gestured to the sad fire he’d built while they were training. Their little campsite was surrounded by dense vegetation and was as hidden as possible.

Ingrid looked unamused as she stared at the fire, “What did the forest run out of twigs or something?”

“Hey, this isn’t a place where we want a big fire, trust me,” said Sylvain. He had grown uncharacteristically serious and Annie found herself gripping the handle of her axe to the point her hands were hurting.

“Why do you say that?” Please not ghosts, please not ghosts.

“Eh, bandits, patrols, beasts, this place isn’t nice,” said Sylvain as he looked around.

“Beasts?” asked Annie weakly. _Great_.

“Yeah, watch out for one that’s taller and wider than me with blond hair—” grumbled Sylvain.

Annette paused and frowned, and Ingrid cut in, “Sylvain we’re going to have to talk to your father eventually.” Sylvain made a disgruntled noise deep in his throat as he focused on stirring their provisions into a nice thick, gloppy stew. Annie could not wait to get to Fhirdiad and some real food for a change. Of all the Blue Lions to end up with, how the ones worst at cooking all landed together?

Thanks to Sylvain’s little warning, Annette barely slept. Every rustle, every snapping twig, it all screamed ‘ _you’re going to dieee_ ’ to her in the dark. Plus she’d learned the hard way on this trip that Sylvain and Ingrid both snored. Under her breath she started to sing a little song to make herself feel better.

_Forest beastie, forest beastie, please don’t eat meee._

_I’ve got my axe, and uh, I’m learning how to use it._

_So please don’t make me sink it in your head!_

_‘Cause then you’ll just be dead!_

She was too scared to really workshop the lyrics as she stared up at the sky and wondered what was happening to Felix and Mercedes in the Empire’s army. She wondered if they were free to walk around, or if they were chained up and only let out to fight. She bet they were being tortured by all the awful Black Eagles. Those Adrestians hadn’t seemed that bad back in school, but clearly they were.

Petra had been super scary in battle with her knives. She was so fast! Annie could barely keep track of her. Linhardt always seemed a little detached in battle but Annie had seen him zap plenty of Knights of Seiros with a lazy spin of his hand. Dorothea…was literally insane. She had been singing her spells with a fiery rage. Caspar screamed every time he punched someone, which was often. Hubert was evil incarnate, and Edelgard, oh Goddess, Edelgard was the scariest of them all. She was the flipping Flame Emperor! Annie squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best not to think about the battle for Garreg Mach and how they’d lost. Annie didn’t usually curse, but, fuck Edelgard. Fuck Hubert. Fuck Caspar, and Linhardt, and Dorothea, and Petra. Fuck them all for starting this terrible shit.

The worst part of this war was Annie didn’t even really want to defend the Kingdom and the Church. Not all of it anyway. She wanted her home to be safe and she wanted to protect her family. She didn’t want to lose Garreg Mach, but Rhea? Annie wasn’t so sure. Her father had abandoned his family to go serve a great big dragon and that kind of sort of made Annie hate Rhea. The fact that Rhea had indiscriminately stomped on people in the battle didn’t help her feelings at all. She felt misled, she felt hoodwinked. She felt mad. Now, the Kingdom was barely responding and no one knew what was going on. What the hell Faerghus? What the hell Church? Do something!

Annie must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke with Sylvain’s hand firmly over her mouth in the dim of the predawn light. He pressed a finger to his lips — quiet — and then slowly got up with his lance. Ingrid was already crouched and poised to strike. Annie rolled over and wrapped her hand around the handle of her weapon as she mentally prepared to cast. Sylvain inched towards the edge of their camp and then jabbed forward with a battle cry.

The man that he was about to stab rapidly grabbed the weapon right where the blade met the shaft and deflected the blow with ease. Sylvain paled and sputtered out an apology.

“Welcome home son,” said the hulking man as he released Sylvain’s lance. There was a whole patrol wearing the crest of Gautier surrounding their little camp. The massive Margrave gave a whistle, “It’s just Sylvain.” He dropped his voice down for his son, “You should have sent some kind of word you were coming. We could have killed you.”

“Yeah well, things have been hectic, you heard about Garreg Mach?” Sylvain sounded more annoyed than apologetic.

“Aye. Come on, let’s get you and your women back to the hall,” said the Margrave as he spit on the ground.

Annie felt her stomach clenching up at the comment. She glanced at Ingrid, who looked like she was mentally etching a target on Sylvain’s dad’s massive back. So this was Sylvain’s father.

The Gautier patrol were rough and tumble; they looked like people who actually regularly fought. Annette suddenly felt soft and unprepared for war while walking beside them. The town where Sylvain was from was much more rustic and pastoral than Annie had been expecting. She had kind of assumed that all the other noble Blue Lions lived in castles and stuff, but apparently only Dimitri grew up in a proper palace. Felix’s house was very grand, but perhaps that was because his father was a Duke. Then there was Ingrid’s family’s home, which was more or less a big farm. Annie had used to live with her family in a tight home in the capital, until her father left them stranded and forced to go to Gustav’s brother’s estate for shelter.

There was a big wall in the distance, that had to be the border of Sreng. This was the farthest north Annie had ever been. It was chilly here, even though it was summer, and the forests gave way to arid in rolling plains.

The straw roofed long house was warmer inside and was clearly the center of operations for the whole town. “Oh Sylvain, what a surprise,” smiled a beautiful woman as she embraced him.

Annie wondered if this woman was Sylvain’s secret girlfriend, until he awkwardly hugged her back, “Hi Liz.”

The woman frowned, “Sylvain, it’s _mom_.” Annie’s head was spinning, either Liz had been a child bride, looked unnaturally great for her age, or she was a step mom.

“I’m not calling you that,” said Sylvain curtly as he weaseled his way out her embrace. Step mom it was.

“Elizabeth, get over here,” barked the Margrave and Sylvain’s step mother rushed to comply. Breakfast was being brought out and Annette, despite her reservations about the place, was impressed with the spread. Annie looked up to see the Lance of Ruin hung above a sort of wood throne — no wonder Miklan had such an easy time stealing it — and saw it give a twitch. Ingrid was eating and not talking, so Annie followed suit. Sylvain was sitting next to his father and looking less than enthused to be there while his step mom seemed to be flirting with him.

Sylvain brought his father up to speed on things that were happening in the south, and the Margrave seemed extremely reluctant to spare any troops. “If Blaiddyd orders it, then I will comply, but we are stretched thin.”

“Has Duke Blaiddyd sent any orders yet?” asked Sylvain.

His father shook his head and scratched at his long braided beard. “The Duke is distracted by that mistress of his, what is her name again?”

“Cornelia,” piped up Elizabeth helpfully.

“Right, Cornelia, that controlling bitch,” muttered the Margrave. He spat his chewing tobacco into a special cup he had for that purpose and Annie suppressed her revulsion. “She’ll have him hole up in Fhirdiad and watch as the rest of us lay down our lives to defend it.”

There was silence around the table. Ingrid cleared her throat, “When Dimitri returns, he will take up the leadership I’m sure.”

The Margrave laughed, “Prince Dimitri isn’t fit to rule over a farming plot. He’s a whelp, he’s untested. He’s used to following order. What the fuck does he know about leading in a war? No. Rodrigue has asked for me to come with him to Fhirdiad to help convince Rufus to take our advice and take action.”

“You want to force Rufus’ hand to war?” asked Sylvain, sounding unconvinced.

“Enough blood of ours has been spilled defending the Blaiddyd line, it’s time for them to stand up,” said the Margrave with an air of finality.

Sylvain pursed his lips, “Well, don’t send soldiers then, but at least send me with the lance of Ruin. I think it’s time I take it up.”

“I asked if you were ready months ago and you refused it,” growled the Margrave.

“Yeah well, extenuating circumstances have changed my mind,” said Sylvain. The two of them were glaring at each other.

Annie was nervously wringing her hands beneath the table. She did not want to have to cross the Margrave Gautier at all. He looked like he could eat Annie, and still be hungry. To her surprise he consented, “Fine. Take that thing to Fhirdiad, and tell them I mean business. I will only pledge to send a quarter of the troops the Blaiddyd’s put up. I am not fighting this fucking war on my own like we’ve been forced to do for decades with Sreng.” It was stingy but Annie understood the sentiment. Why give everything to protect something when you were getting nothing in return? That was how she felt about the Church; her father had given himself fully to Seiros and left nothing behind for his family.

The three Blue Lions would leave the next morning, which was more than enough time here for Annie. Watching night creep from the east though was a beautiful sight. Sylvain procured a stolen bottle of liquor for them, and showed them up to the great big border wall keeping Sreng out of Fodlan.

The wall wasn’t that tall, but it gave a great view of the twilight falling over the steppe. If it were not filled with warring clans, this place might even be beautiful. Sylvain was sitting with the liquor and letting his legs hang over the side of the wall in a way that made Annie nervous.

“This is the last place the war’s going to reach,” said Sylvain with a bitter tone. “That’s why my father’s so reluctant to send troops.”

“Good for you,” said Ingrid. She looked and sounded annoyed with him.

“I almost wish it would just come here and wipe this place off the map,” said Sylvain.

“How can you possibly wish for something like that?” Ingrid looked at Sylvain with more disappointment in her eyes than Annie had ever seen. When Sylvain said nothing, Ingrid got frustrated, “I’m heading back down, I’ll see you in the morning. Annette, are you coming?”

The fading light was truly magnificent to watch, “Um, I’m going to stay a little longer.”

“Suit yourself,” growled Ingrid, still glaring at Sylvain. The ladder creaked and heaved as they listened to her descending back to the ground.

“I know what you mean,” said Annie quietly after a long silence. “About wanting to wipe a place away.”

Sylvian gave her a quick look, “Is your home shitty too?”

“No,” said Annie. “No, my home is fine. But Faerghus, Faerghus isn’t fine. I mean, I’m not saying I want to be part of the Empire, but, maybe some changes wouldn’t hurt.” She thought about her mother, abandoned by her father, and how hard Faerghus made it for a woman without a husband to survive. They’d lost their house because with losing Gustave they’d lost his income as well. If the Baron, her uncle, hadn’t taken them in, Annie wasn’t sure where they would have ended up. She wasn’t sure her father cared. “I came to school to find my father to figure out why he left and if he was hurting as bad as I was. When I found him, I realized he chose to leave because he chose service to the Goddess over the family that he made, that he was responsible for. It was like he shed us like an old skin, changing his name even so we couldn’t find them. I mean, who does that?”

“I wish my dad had left instead of my mom,” said Sylvain as he stared out onto the steppe.

“Do you know where she went? Maybe you can still find her,” suggested Annette.

Sylvain took a drink and laughed. He showed Annette the empty bottle and then pitched it from the wall, “That’s where my mom went.” He whistled as if to imitate something falling, and then smacked his hands together. “She didn’t handle how my father cast out Miklan too well.”

Annie felt her mouth hanging open in shock, “Sylvain, I, I had no idea, I’m sorry.”

“You had no idea because I never talk about it,” said Sylvain as he stared at some distant clouds. “She was barely cold by the time the women in this town were crawling up my mountain of a father. The one he married, my step mom? She’s like, maybe ten years older than me. She used to babysit me as a kid, she was my first crush, now she fucks my old man.”

Annie found her throat tight as she listened to him. She felt terrible about his life and her own, and by extension she felt terrible about all the circumstances that had led them here to this place. Annie wiped her nose on her sleeve and then offered Sylvain her hand. He looked up at her with surprise and then took it. Annie gave him as reassuring a squeeze as she could manage, “If you ever want help burning some of this shit to the ground, I know some fire spells.”


	12. Birthright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions crew arrives in Fhirdiad; Mercedes missteps left and right while just trying to be friendly

The Baron Alphonse Dominic oversaw a modest stretch of land north of Fhridiad. He looked a great deal like his older brother, but with much less gray in his hair and laugh lines instead of worry lines on his face. Annette ran to hug him as she, Sylvain, and Ingrid finally arrived to her family's lands. Their progress had been getting slower and slower as they accrued more stuff; Sylvain’s father, for being a gruff gross giant, had at least outfitted his son with proper armor, and given them some sturdy camping gear.

“Annie! You’re, well, you’re still the same size as when we sent you off to school,” said Alphonse warmly as he let her down from the hug.

She wasn’t going to tell him she had grown one whole inch during school. She had been spending too much time standing next to Sylvain and she felt shorter than ever. “Is my mom around?”

Annette’s mother, Chelsea Fantine, was quickly found in the library. She was an accomplished mage in her own right, and could often be found studying a book and trying to learn something new. She practically dropped her tome in her rush to hug her daughter, “I was so, so worried.”

“Did you get my letter?” asked Annie. She had sent word she was safe when they had finally reach Ingrid’s home, and she was horrified at the idea her mother might have gone months without knowing what was happening.

“Oh of course, but, you said you were going all the way to Sreng! How could I not be worried?” Chelsea resumed smothering Annie with her tight hug.

“We kept her safe,” boasted Sylvain as he folded his arms to not subtly flex his big biceps at Annie's attractive single mother. 

Ingrid scoffed, “More like Annette and I kept you safe.” Her biceps were shown off as she gave him a punch in the arm.

“Annie, who are your friends?” Chelsea was warm and bubbly like her daughter and always interested in meeting new people.

“I’m Ingrid Brandl Galatea,” said Ingrid as she gave a formal little bow.

“Sylvain Gautier,” said Sylvain with an easy grin and a wave.

“Well welcome! You must be famished.” Chelsea practically drug them to the kitchen to make sure they were fed and content. Annie didn’t know how to tell her mom that they weren’t staying for very long.

It was tempting to just settle down here and hope that other people fought the war. The Dominic estate was idyllic and lush during the summer. There were apple orchards stretching around that gave way to forests, and it was easy to find places to walk and think. During the winter it was even a joy to be cooped up indoors because the library had so many books to read. It was close enough to Fhirdiad that one could get there in less than a day, and far enough away that one could escape the hustle and bustle. In all, this was a wonderful place that Annie wanted to stay and protect. However, if the Empire could be stopped from advancing into the Kingdom at all that was best. Having now seen just how close Ingrid and Felix’s family lands were to the border, Annie couldn’t just sit back and wait for the war to reach her here. She was committed now to pushing the Empire back. She knew this choice was going to hurt her mother, but this was something she had to do.

Annette was extremely nervous as she approached her uncle for a private conversation. “Um, do you have a few minutes?”

Alphonse looked up from the papers he was reading, “For you Annie I have at least five.”

Annette smiled with relief at his easy humor, and invited herself into his office, “I heard you're staying neutral on the war.”

Alphonse’s face grew serious, “That seemed the safest stance to take. Being so close to Fhirdiad, we really must do what the Blaiddyds wish, and for now Duke Blaiddyd is not declaring war.”

Annie understood perfectly. Whoever controlled Fhirdiad controlled the Dominics based on proximity alone. “Well, Duke Blaiddyd might not be doing anything, but I would like to.” She took a deep breath, her poor mother was going to hate this, which was why she was going to her uncle first, “The Empire has my best friend.” Also her would-be boyfriend, but it was a little less clear if he was there by choice or not. “So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to take up Crusher and go get her back.”

Her uncle’s eyes traced to the massive ugly hammer that was their family relic. As if it felt his eyes upon it, the thing gave a foreboding twitch. “It would sure be a shame for Crusher to fall into the wrong hands.”

“I’ll take good care of it I swear,” said Annie in a desperate rush. Oh Goddess, was he really going to make her steal it? Could she even bring herself to pull something like that off?!

Alphonse gave her a small smile, “I know. I’m more worried what will become of it if Fhirdiad should fall and it is still here, if you catch my meaning.” Alphonse got up, and in being a large man, hefted up Crusher with ease, “You’re the only Dominic of your generation that bears our crest. This is as much your birthright as it is mine or your father’s.” He extended the handle towards her.

Annette gulped and got up. With timid hands she took the family relic, and nearly dropped it because it had to weigh as much as she did. Alphonse winced, “We’ll work on getting a cart for you to carry that thing around.”

“Thank you,” said Annie as she set it down. She looked up at him, “I promise I’ll come back and help defend this place, but I’m hoping we can put a stop to this before gets anywhere close.”

“I know,” smiled Alphonse. “But Annie, if Fhirdiad does fall, I think you should stay far away. Promise me you’ll keep Crusher, and more importantly yourself, safe.” Annie nodded, even as she knew in heart that she wasn’t able to abandon her family like her father so carelessly had.

***

It was Petra’s birthday. She was turning seventeen and Mercedes suddenly felt ancient in comparison. The Strike Force was having a little combined party for Petra and Dorothea, who was turning twenty in a couple weeks. At the very least, there was wine, and Mercedes felt a pleasant warmness in her cheeks as she watched some of the Black Eagles dancing. There was a little mismatched band hired from who knew where and some specially cooked food from Brigid, or at least as close as could be approximated here in the Bergliez territory. They were in the shadow of Fort Merceus and soon the army would be splitting; half would go to Garreg Mach and assist in the taking of western Faerghus, while the other half would stay here and work on the alliance.

Mercedes still did not like the other Black Eagles all that much, but she wasn’t too proud not to enjoy their entertainment when she was invited to partake. The wine helped dull the pain of the possibility of marching north to her home and the music was nice to listen to even if she did not feel like dancing. Her immediate company wasn’t hurting either; Mercedes was sitting with Bernadetta, Felix, and Ashe and enjoying the conversation greatly. Ashe, even if he was supporting the Empire, was impossible to stay mad at. He and Mercedes were making plans to cook together again, and it was nice to look forward to something for a change.

Ferdinand could not resist the pull of the dance floor, and Mercedes suspected he was warming back up to his former classmates and his new role as he matched Petra dance for dance. Apparently Mercedes' little assignment for Hubert had inspired some actual compliments, and Ferdinand was optimistic that Hubert was honest when he promised to listen to him more. Mercedes was pleasantly impressed that Hubert had been able to eek out three passable compliments, although Linhardt had regaled her with a rather hilarious retelling of how he’d goaded the tactician into imploding. She still hadn’t tutored Hubert yet, but, she knew as soon as he had free time he’d probably be sneaking up on her with a tome to collect his lesson.

Caspar barreled over to the table and grabbed both Bernadetta and Ashe’s hands and pulled them to the dance floor despite Bernadetta’s protests. Felix rolled his eyes and focused on poking at the Brigid "octopus" stew which Mercedes had heard was really pork. Mercedes smiled at him. She was feeling much better towards him now than when she was first captured, and wanted to set things right, “I’m sorry I was so down following Garreg Mach when it was taken. I want you to know I am glad we’re here together.”

Felix looked up with a glimmer of surprise that then immediate set back into his typical glower, “Yeah, well, someone needs to be here to watch out for you.”

“Oh is that why you defected?” teased Mercedes. She was always careful not to prod Felix too much. Felix just shrugged in response, and Mercedes pursed her lips, “Do you regret it at all? Staying I mean?”

“No,” said Felix as he shoved some porktopus stew in his mouth.

“You know you can talk to me about this, I understand why you wouldn’t want to at a party,” she said in a whisper as she looked around at the merriment. She returned her eyes to his, “But I’m always here to listen.” She wanted him to feel comfortable opening up to her.

“You assume I have something to say,” said Felix with a frown. “You’re not my mother Mercedes, you don’t have to act like it.”

Mercedes disliked being called motherly. She liked _being_ motherly or sisterly towards others, but people always threw it back at her like she was weird for caring too much. The wine wasn’t helping her mood, “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, you just, you remind me of my younger brother—”

“I what? Your brother, the Death Knight?” Felix sounded offended by the suggestion.

That hadn’t been the comparison she had meant to make, but that was the only side of her brother that Felix knew. “I’m not saying you remind me of Jertiza. Growing up, my brother’s name was Emile, and that’s who you remind me of.” Emile had been a tough little boy with moments of sweetness and sincerity, much like Felix.

“They’re the same person,” said Felix.

Mercedes was frustrated that Felix was refusing to understand. Yes, of course they were the same person, but simultaneously they weren’t, not to her. Not that Jeritza had stuck around Garreg Mach to let her talk to him about who he’d been and what he’d become. He was presently up at Fort Merceus now, and it was anyone’s guess if he’d even acknowledge her if she had to pass through there. Her brother was Emile, and Jeritza was just a stranger to her.

“Sorry to state the obvious, but I’m not your brother. I’m not Jeritza, I’m not Emile, I’m just me, _Felix_ Hugo Fraldarius, no one else,” said Felix harshly.

Felix was prickly but she had really pissed him off, and far more than she anticipated. He was like an emulsion; do one step slightly wrong and the whole thing broke and couldn’t be put back together. Even when one did everything right sometimes things just came out messed up. Mercedes at least knew when to walk away, “Sorry to bother you.” She left the table and started to wander while wondering if she ought not just tuck in for the night. At the very least she was going to stick around long enough to finish her mug of wine.

The dance floor was popular but Mercedes did not wish to partake. It was wild and unrestrained and Mercedes was feeling just buzzed enough that she knew she’d look like a fool if she went out there. She wasn’t the only one avoiding the spectacle. Edelgard was smiling with tight lips, and tapping her foot but definitely not dancing. Linhardt was enjoying the view from his table but staying firmly seated. Hubert was watching from the edges with indifference.

“You’re not drinking?” asked Mercedes as she looked at Hubert’s coffee mug with one eyebrow raised with amused suspicion. He was always so serious, even at a birthday celebration. She wished she could get him to relax, even if just a little. It had to be miserable being so tightly wound all the time. 

Hubert sipped at his coffee and looked back at her, “I can enjoy a party without a drink, thank you.”

“Are you that afraid of being poisoned?” teased Mercedes as she imagined him taste testing everything that went near Edelgard’s lips. “Or do you just have to stay alert in case we’re attacked?”

Hubert sighed and looked down at his mug, “Not everything I do is about my work. I simply enjoy coffee.”

Mercedes sipped her wine and imagined he’d be up all night while she got to peacefully rest. “You know there are coffee liqueurs—”

Hubert took a deep breath and paused for a couple beats, “Vestra’s come in two flavors, sober, and violently drunk. Therefore, I prefer to enjoy coffee and just coffee.”

“Oh,” managed Mercedes as her mind flashed back to Gerhard Bartels drinking himself into a stupor on the night of her flight.

“Excuse me,” said Hubert curtly as he walked away from her to stand with Edelgard.

Mercedes silently finished her wine and returned her little mug to the dish pile. She missed Annette and being able to confide in someone and have them confide back. She missed Ingrid’s blunt commentary as much as she missed Sylvain’s goofy observations. She missed Dimitri’s good natured dedication and Dedue’s grounded gentleness. She missed being around people who would care when she left a party. Mercedes returned to her lonely tent and tried not to think about these things, even as the thoughts chased her into sleep.

***

Annie loved Fhirdiad. No offense to her uncle’s place, but Fhirdiad was what Annie thought of when she pictured home. She was however uneasy about the palace that was getting closer and closer as they walked through increasingly wealthy neighborhoods. Growing up it was always a place she associated with her father, and she remembered feeling very proud that he did something so important as protecting the king. She missed her father when he traveled and she was always elated when he came home. Annette was thirteen when the tragedy of Duscar occurred and she was so grateful her father had not been there. Unfortunately, his absence at the side of his king destroyed him.

Now as the trio walked the rows of fancy houses where Annette used to live, she could not help but feel sad. Her father renouncing his title hadn’t just impacted him. He might have been able to go from Baron Gustave Dominic to guilt ridden Gilbert, but the rest of the family was left stuck dealing with the rules of succession. Annette was oldest and crested, but she was also a girl. Hence how Uncle Alphonse became Baron instead. Many nobles kept homes in the capital for when they visited court, but Annette’s family home had been sold to create an income for her mother to live off of. If Annette could change one thing about Faerghus it would be how inheritances worked because as far as she could tell, no one was happy with it.

Annette couldn’t be a Baron on her own. Crestless Miklan was kicked out. Ingrid had to marry up. Adopted Ashe was never considered a noble. Judging by Mercedes’ childhood experiences, Adrestia didn’t seem that much better. Basically Fodlan needed reform…but by that logic, Edelgard had a point to her war, and that made Annie even madder! She tried to ignore those feelings and focus on her new source of nervousness: meeting Felix’s mother for a formal meeting.

The Fraldarius house was the last one on the street and closest to the palace because they were one of the most important noble families in Faerghus. Despite the city home being smaller, it was no less grand than their country estate. A butler answered the door and announced them as they were led into the receiving room. Annie tried not to stare but this was the most fancy home she’d ever been in.

Duchess Enora Fraldarius was dressed like she was modeling for a fashion plate. Felix had his father’s hair but now Annie could see where he had gotten those sharp, calculating brown eyes from. Enora’s plain brown hair was done back in a flawless bun and as she got up to greet them Annie could see that she was eye level with her. While short, Enora looked like she knew how to use the business end of a sword to great effect. She also had a long thin scar up her face that Annie suspected had been earned in Duscar.

“Ingrid, darling, so good to see you,” said Enora as she embraced her former would-be daughter-in-law. Enora looked up at Sylvain towering over her, “Sylvain, get a hair cut or learn what a brush is.” Her eyes trained on Annie, “And who are you?”

“Annette Fantine Dominic,” stammered Annie as she curtsied.

“Dominic, Gustave’s daughter?” Enora was intimidating and Annie found she could only nod. “I saw him in court last month, he pretended he didn’t even recognize me. The absolute nerve of him.”

“S-sorry,” said Annie. “He, uh, he ignores me too.” Oh Annie, NO! Why did she just run her mouth like that? Luckily she spotted an approving smirk on Enora’s lips, and perhaps that hadn’t been the wrong thing to say after all.

“Come, let us take tea, I suspect we have much to discuss,” announced Enora as she led them to the tea parlor. It was just as opulent as Annie was coming to expect from anything owned by the Fraldariuses.

Ingrid took over the talking as she brought Enora up to speed on all they’d seen and learned. Annie was distracted by the family portrait featuring a very young Felix and what could only be his older brother Glenn. Felix was smiling, and he looked just like Glenn. Now Annie understood the constant comparisons, and why they had to hurt so much.

Enora listened patiently to Ingrid with a growing look of displeasure. “Well it seems for once my husband and I are in agreement, someone needs to talk some sense into our regent.”

“We couldn’t get an audience with Duke Blaiddyd,” said Sylvain darkly. They had tried repeatedly to no avail. “Oh wait, no sorry, they said they might be able to schedule us for five weeks from now.” It felt like they didn’t have five days, let alone five weeks. The whole process had been incredibly frustrating.

Enora did not look surprised, “That’s because you’re children and Cornelia controls the schedule.” The way she said Cornelia was seething with contempt and made Annie gulp. “But you have me on your side, and she can’t ignore me and Rodrigue when he arrives.” Enora’s movements were effortless with a teacup and Annie wondered what she looked like darting about with a rapier. “I think your talents are better spent looking for Prince Dimitri and spying on the Adrestians on our borders. I will deal with trying to mobilize our dear leader, and you will bring my son home.”

This was how they found themselves outfitted with proper supplies and on their way back to Garreg Mach. Enora Fraldarius didn’t seem to have too much concern over finances, even as they protested her gifts were too much. There wasn’t time to get fully fitted for new clothes and armor, but they got what could be given for them to safely travel through the winter. They received fur lined clothes and capes, and extra weapons with instructions to stick them into the Emperor if they crossed her.

Saying goodbye to her mother as they prepared to leave for Garreg Mach hurt Annie the most. "I'll be coming back, I promise," said Annie as she hugged her mother tightly. "I'm not like _him_."

"Don't say things like that," whispered Chelsea in her daughter's ear. "You don't have to constantly compare yourself to your father, the good or bad things about him." She pulled back and looked Annette over, "I am very proud of what you're doing." It was meant to be a compliment, but inside it broke Annie just a little to get approval over leaving. 

She made a fist and a firm expression, "I will be back, with Mercedes, and Felix." _Watch out Adrestia_ , thought Annie as she attempted to lift her relic, _we're coming for you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Faerghian middle names reflect a mother's maiden name, maybe?


	13. A Bad Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes gives Hubert a lesson in magic, Felix confronts Mercedes about their little fight, and Annie and co reach Garreg Mach -- but someone else has gotten there first.

Fort Merceus was a titan on the landscape of the Bergliez lands. They would not be here for long, this was just a short rest on the way to Garreg Mach, but while they were here there was finally some precious free time for Hubert to practice his black magic. Mercedes was easy to find because Hubert assigned the schedules, and for her, he’d blocked off time for this lesson in place of a shift at the infirmary. Hubert decided that practicing outside was safest, and he located a nice little grassy spot in some shade for the two of them. He’d fished free his tome and stared at his Grandfather’s little simple birthday message to him, _“Are you sure you’re ten? How would you really know? - BvV”_. He wished he could recapture the wonderful feeling of learning magic. He missed that lightness and excitement of when things had last been good in his life. Now everything felt as heavy as this book.

“I think you should take off your gloves,” suggested Mercedes gently as she started to pull them off without asking permission.

“How is this supposed to help me cast?” asked Hubert as he stared at the shameful thin white spiderwebs of scars covering his skin. He was perfectly capable of casting with his gloves on and he did not like looking at his hands and what had become of them as he served the empire. He was already a body claimed in this war.

“Well it should help remind you of the costs of dark magic,” said Mercedes as she traced over a particularly rough patch of skin, “The scarring only happens when you kill right?”

Hubert nodded as he withdrew his hands from her touch. She was too familiar with everyone, especially him, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. Mercedes stared at him with an expression he found hard to decipher; was it curiosity? Pity? Either way he didn’t care for it, nor did he care for the question she posed, “How old were you when you first killed someone?”

“Twenty,” said Hubert as a crisp annoyance carried in his voice. “While out on our first real mission with Professor Byleth, just like the rest of my classmates.”

“Really?” Her shock at this fact cut him deeper than her disgust at his hands when she’d had to heal them after fighting Judith Daphnel’s forces.

“Yes. Why, when was your first kill?” Hubert was stung but unsurprised by her assumptions about him. Part of him wished she would drop some ridiculous fact like she was a child murderer, but alas, this was Mercedes, whose first instinct was to heal those in need no matter the side they fought on.

“Oh, it was the same for me,” said Mercedes softly. “Just a school mission. It was very shocking.”

He had found killing shocking too; he was shocked by just how easy it was to snuff out a life. He knew that he too could be just as easily be smudged off the landscape, “Why do you think I killed someone prior to beginning at Garreg Mach?”

Mercedes stared at him and then at the ground, “You remind me sometimes of my brother.”

He reminded her of the Death Knight. Somehow Hubert suspected she wasn’t the only one who held such sentiment. Mercedes spoke again before he could ask her why, “But I’m afraid I see bits of him in many people. It’s probably just your reputation that makes me associate you with what he’s become honestly.”

“My reputation?” Hubert had a pretty good inkling of what his reputation, was but he wanted to hear what exactly she thought of him.

Mercedes blushed and opened the tome to avoid his gaze, “I don’t know, there were just rumors that you poisoned people and killed off Edelgard’s political opponents.”

“Emperor Edelgard has many political enemies, however, how do you think her image would fair if as a teenage princess her critics were dropping dead left and right?” Hubert sighed and stared at Mercedes, “I believe of our class in the Officer’s Academy, Claude was the only person who ever actually knew anything about poisons, and Dimitri, Dedue and Felix were the only people with any true combat experience.” He stacked his gloves neatly and laced his rough fingers together, “Prior to Garreg Mach I was completing secondary school in Enbarr. The worst I did was spy on people for black mail purposes, and coerce them with a threat or two.” He was too preoccupied with not failing his classes so he could actually get into Garreg Mach to have time to actually do anything important. “The first person I killed was a bandit in the Red Canyon, by the orders of the Church.”

“So that was the first time your hands were affected?”

“Indeed,” said Hubert with a biting curtness. It had been scary, not that he was going to tell her that, to take off his gloves and see the small decaying patches on his palms. He had hoped it would heal on its own and go away, but with each passing day it got worse and worse until he collapsed in front of Linhardt of all people who begrudgingly came to his aid. Hubert learned the hard way that he could delay healing for about two days at most and that any longer would cause permanent damage, or worse, blood poisoning.

The effects of Dark magic on crestless casters was taboo to talk about, so Hubert hadn’t known about the scarring before coming to school. His efforts to research it in the library earned him a stern talking to by Seteth, who informed him that books on the subject of advanced dark magic were removed from the library. Tomas however took pity on Hubert, and offered him a single slim volume on the effects of dark magic on the body. Later, when Solon revealed himself as a hidden agent of Arundel, Hubert understood the book was not from Garreg Mach but from somewhere else entirely. Dark mages wrote up their own books that they distributed through their secretive networks. They warned each other about what would come for them if they killed too much. There were instructions of how to treat it, how to hide it, and most of all, how bad it could get before it killed you. Outside a war, a dark mage might live a long life, but in combat, their life expectancy was drastically shortened. The only motivation he had right now to learn black magic was his desire to survive past twenty five.

Mercedes finished flipping through his old black magic tome. She presented him the page on fire, “Alright, let’s work on this. At the very least it’s useful, even if you can’t bring yourself to employ it in battle, there are many practical applications of black magic.”

He never been an exceptionally good student. Hubert was frustrated by his own inadequacies and embarrassed as each attempt fizzled out and failed. However he figured of all the people to humiliate himself in front of, Mercedes was one of the least likely to mock him for it later. Linhardt and Dorothea would surely tear their taunting claws into him if they saw this pathetic display but Mercedes was kind enough to clap when he managed to set a flicker into the air for more than a second. It didn’t feel as patronizing as he thought it would, it actually felt good to have one person routing for him.

“Well I’m afraid I’d have to give you failing marks if this were graded,” said Mercedes as she lounged on the ground watching him flounder. They’d been at this for almost two hours and Hubert had hit a plateau. “I know you’re good at magic, so power isn’t the issue, have you ever considered this may be be purely emotional in nature?”

The idea that this was purely a mental block haunted him all the time. “Of course. I know dark magic is destructive, and yet I cannot quit it,” said Hubert. He hadn’t fallen prey to alcohol like the other men of his family but he had found himself equal obsessions to replace it with. It was as infuriating as it was humbling. “The feeling of using it is horrid, and the consequences are painful, and yet it is the tool I reach for every time I cast.” He ran his thumb over one of the scarred up patches on his left hand, “I can’t bring myself to risk using anything less than the most powerful spell for the job, because any hesitation, any mercy shown, is the possibility of me dying, or worse, someone I care about.”

Mercedes pursed her lips, “Are you sure about that?”

Hubert had watched his grandfather sacrifice himself to make sure Hubert was away from the violence during the Insurrection. If Hubert was going to die, it had better be saving someone he loved or for something he stood for. He couldn’t bring himself to be anything less than his most powerful out on the battlefield, “Yes, I am very sure.”

Mercedes was lazily conjuring and dispelling a fire ball between her hands. She made it look elementary, “Well, what about off the battlefield? You don’t need to fret if you’re just doing a little spell for fun.”

“What spells are just for fun?” Even as he asked it he could remember chasing Edelgard around and being warped; that had possibly been the most fun he might have ever had. Yet as an adult, magic was no longer joyful. It was a tool of war. It was a weapon that killed, not a toy for children.

Mercedes looked at him and flashed her easy smile before a little arc of lighting left her hands and hit his own. A tingling jolt, not painful but surprising for sure, shook his hand, “What the hell was that for?”

Mercedes was giggling to herself, “Annie and I used to do that to each other as a prank. We’d try to catch the other unaware, and then we’d sneak a little zap.”

“I didn’t take you for the pranking type,” said Hubert as he rubbed his hands.

“Well I don’t think you know me very well,” challenged Mercedes as she stared at him. “I love a nice prank. Not mean ones, but, my favorite is telling a really good ghost story and getting someone to do the honors of jumping from a shadow at my listeners.” She paused as if her mood was slightly dampened, “Sylvain and I got Alois really good with that, but I think the poor knight was afraid of me after that! So, it’s definitely something I don’t do to people who can’t handle it. I’d never do that to someone like say Bernadetta, but Petra and Caspar I think would be very fun to trick.”

“You’re right, I don’t know you well,” said Hubert as he processed the idea of gentle smiling Mercedes telling scary stories and sneakily zapping Annette. “Really, you like ghost stories?” It seemed like something too dark for this soft young woman who liked pink mittens and saving stray kittens.

“Growing up, the woods near my home were surrounded by demonic beasts, and so my brother and I would come up with really scary stories to make the real world seem less grim in comparison,” admitted Mercedes softly as she pulled her boots back on and stretched. “I suppose they still hold such appeal to me in these times.”

Hubert was a little surprised by how well he related to such sentiment. He didn’t really bother with fiction because if he had to listen to another romanticized tale of knights and glorious battles he was going to be sick. He hated happy endings because they were not real. Ghost stories and horror soothed a very different kind of need. Hubert cleared his throat, “Well, if you ever require a monster to jump from a shadow, I suppose that is a part I already play.” He might as well lean into his reputation because he doubted it would ever get better.

Mercedes laughed lightly, “I’ll keep that in mind. We are in Wyvern Moon, it is a notoriously haunted time of year. We should be back at Garreg Mach before the end of the month, it could be fun if we did something special for it.” The last day of Wyvern Moon was called the Howling Moon, and it was a night to celebrate the end of fall and the start of Red Wolf Moon and winter the next day. Bloody ghost stories were traditionally shared around fire with cider and candied apples.

Hubert didn’t usually partake in any festivities, but perhaps he could use that as incentive for her to keep teaching him. He hadn’t made very much progress, but Mercedes’ optimism seemed to be rubbing off on him, “While today’s lesson was less than productive, if you’re willing, I’d like to try again. I can trade you something for it, such as being a ghoul in one of your stories.”

“Tempting, but I have something else in mind.” She chewed on her lip and looked up at him, “Could I request a specific infirmary shift in exchange for lessons?”

That was a low cost to him, so Hubert nodded. Mercedes smiled, “May I have the overnight shift more often?”

Hubert had been expecting her to ask for Manuela’s coveted afternoon shift, not Linhardt’s precious twilight time. “Why do you want the graveyard shift?”

Mercedes shrugged, “I enjoy the solitude, and it’s good for prayer.”

Hubert eyed her suspiciously, “You’re what, praying over the wounded?” He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Mercedes looked a little perturbed, “If you must know, the infirmary has become a sort of church for me since the Cathedral was destroyed. I prefer now to treat a place of healing as my place of worship.”

“Worship of Seiros—”

“Worship of something bigger than Seiros,” said Mercedes with a little snap to her voice. “What better place to strengthen my faith then that which needs me at my best?”

Hubert wondered if something bigger meant Sothis, though it didn’t much matter to him. She was free to believe in whatever nonsense she wished. “Fine, you get the graveyard shift and I’ll give Linhardt the bad news,” said Hubert. That was easy enough for him.

“That’s it then? You don’t have a reprimand for praying behind your Emperor’s back—” Her voice was more challenging than fearful, and he wondered if she had been bottling up her feelings about faith for anyone who would listen.

Hubert felt his back muscles getting tense at the accusation. “Emperor Edelgard has not outlawed worship the Goddess, I don’t think she could stop that if she tried. She has merely toppled the corrupt structure of the Church,” said Hubert. “I won’t pretend to understand why you worship something supernatural, but, if that’s what keeps you healing up our soldiers, pray away.”

“Thank you so much for your permission,” said Mercedes with annoyance.

Hubert smirked at her tone, “Was that some sarcasm on your tongue Ms. von Martritz? If you’re not careful I might actually think you’re comfortable around me.”

She didn’t return his smile, and Hubert felt a sudden desire to shove his foot in his mouth. She was clearly not comfortable around him, and if he had been properly paying attention he would have noticed. She was humoring his requests for help with magic because she was a prisoner and he had ordered her to do this, and fool that he was he’d forgotten she had little choice. She wanted the night shift to avoid people because she did not wish to be among the Adrestians.

Mercedes was being nice to him because she was nice to everyone, not because she was trying to be his friend. People were so often not nice to Hubert that he had forgotten that it was as much a tool as disdain and anger. Hubert straightened his posture and found his voice rang overly formal because he was now speaking with a subordinate and not an equal, “Thank you very much for the lesson. You’re dismissed.” Mercedes said nothing and got up to return to her day. She was conscripted and not here by choice. She had likened him to the Death Knight, a cold killer, and she was not completely wrong. Hubert stared at his damaged hands and then quietly pulled on his gloves to hide away the shame.

Even days later, the interaction was still bubbling up to his conscious mind. Mercedes’ assumption that Hubert had killed people before coming to school cut deeply, though he had only himself to blame for cultivating such an image. He had always suspected people thought that about him, but to hear it expressed to his face was a difficult feeling to articulate. Killing wasn’t easy, but it did have utility. It was true he did not care for having others spill blood at his orders; that was how Rhea conducted business. Doing it himself was taking on that responsibility, and bearing that stain. He also just didn’t trust anyone to carry out orders as effectively as he could himself. However, killing on the battlefield was acceptable and killing in the shadows away from the front lines was immoral. It irked him that being paid to kill, like Byleth as a mercenary, or being ordered to kill, like Catherine executing her friend Christophe, was treated as inherently different from quietly eliminating a threat from Lady Edelgard. Hubert failed to see the difference between methods that produced the same outcome. Maybe it was because unlike Byleth and Catherine, Hubert was choosing who had to die, while mercenaries and knights just blindly followed orders.

Regardless of the lives he’d taken on behalf of Edelgard’s path, most of his duties were truly bureaucratic in nature, so he was making extra effort to do his work around others. If he conducted everything in the shadows, people were prone to making up their own stories of what he was doing. Most of his time was spent doing things like balancing books and accounting, not slaughter. If people could see just how boring his job was, perhaps they’d stop assuming he spent all his time thinking up and carrying out creative assassinations. If Hubert allowed himself a brief moment of honesty, he was doing this because he wished for people to like him.

He had not made friends during school. He had not wished to weaken himself with attachments to anyone other than Edelgard lest they all turn against her path. Hubert had only begun to warm to the likes of Dorothea and Petra when it became clear they were willing to follow Edelgard into the war after Edelgard made a strategic decision to tell them what was going on. Hubert had been against it, but now he was glad she’d gone against his wishes. He had only given a chance to Caspar and Linhardt when their fathers pledged their support. Now he was trying to do the same with Ferdinand. Hubert reminded himself that friends had a utility other than just feeling nice, they would be more likely to cover him on the battlefield if they liked his company.

Mercedes was just another strategic befriending, he told himself. Having her in the infirmary meant that she could someday stand over him and choose to heal him, or choose to heal someone else while letting Hubert die. However she confused him greatly. Hubert was accustomed to being looked with disgust and disdain by those who did not like him, and with fondness by the precious few who did. Mercedes threw a great big kink in that pattern: she was kind to him even though she did not like him. Normally he enjoyed delicious irony like this, but now he was finding he preferred it befalling someone else. He had no read on her, and that actually drove him crazy. She was definitely capable of anger and ill will, but seemed to manage it well enough to hide it behind her kindness, and by her own admission she did things for no reason. She was chaos hidden within a pleasant pretty shell. This potentially made her the most dangerous person near the Emperor right now because of her easy to underestimate appearance, and her incredible power. Hubert was going to have to keep closer tabs on this innocent looking wild card.

However, he was painfully distracted being around other people in common areas so much. He knew he’d read this letter from Enbarr, a simple report on food supply projections for the winter, half a dozen times yet he kept getting lost in his thoughts. Hubert did not care for nostalgia, for the past was hardly as perfect as people wished to believe, but it was becoming fall and memories were swirling though his mind like the wind picking up the drying leaves.

Fall had been a time of spiced apple cider warmed in a pot, of homespun sweaters forced over his head before running out to play, of camping and hearing the crickets as their tunes got slower and slower. Fall was catching salamanders and feeling bad for all the worms used as fish bait. Fall was a sort of nap falling over the land, and all the creatures were running to get nice and cozy before the long sleep of winter overtook them. Fall had been happy. It had been his favorite.

He didn’t care for winter; too cold, too dark, too like him to be comfortable. Spring was an easy favorite for people as all the life burst forth and flowers opened a world of color back to the landscape. Spring was overrated. Pollen and humidity, the lot of it. Early summer though, when the plants had calmed down and the nights were still cool, that was a nice time. That was bare feet on cool moss and catching fireflies in the din of twilight. That was smiles given and smiles returned.

Hubert stared at the letter again, having gotten none of it. His mind wanted to be nine again and camping at one of the Hresvelg’s fancy cabins in the woods or out on the water. He couldn’t be nine again, and those cabins were all repossessed and redistributed. Everything that could be liquidated was sold off to fund this war. The quiet lakes would stay such, untouched and unseen, until this conflict was fully though. Would he survive to ever return to any semblance of what had been? Would he ever get to be like his uncle and take someone small and beloved out to show them all the salamanders, the fish, and share the stories of all the stars in the sky?

Hubert hated being distracted about as much as he hated making plans for his own life. Imagining the future made it harder to fight because it made him scared of losing what didn’t yet exist, which was ridiculous. Hubert picked up the letter, perhaps if he held it up to his eyes, he’d be able to focus. All he saw were numbers without context. 100,000 – was that a hundred thousand barrels of apples or a hundred thousand dead? This was going to be a long war if this was how weary he felt after only six months.

“Hubert,” Edelgard’s voice cut clear through the memories and helped to ground him back into the present.

“Yes your majesty?” Hubert straightened up.

“You seem, unwell, do you wish to take a break?” Edelgard was taking her own break to play cards with Petra. Something was going on there, though what it was exactly Hubert couldn’t be precisely sure of. He figured if Edelgard was to grow fond of anyone, a princess was a suitable companion.

“As always you are correct,” said Hubert as he set the papers back into their little case. He had to read them with fresh eyes and he was useless right now. “If I may, I think I need to take a patrol or something to that effect.”

“Hubert, you know you can just walk without a purpose, even if your reason is just to clear your head,” said Edelgard as she watched him. She was not constantly haunted by memories of the past, and she was free to pursue her vision of the future.

He felt foolish with her intense gaze upon him, “Someone needs to patrol and I need to walk. Two birds, one stone.”

He did sign up for too many patrols just to get out of his own head for an hour here or there. When he walked with soldiers they barely spoke to him, and not in a respectful way. It was a fearful silence that accompanied him all over. Hubert preferred members of the officer’s academy for that reason; they weren’t afraid of him (well, perhaps all save Bernadetta). Some held him in contempt, but, at least they did look upon him like he was Nemesis himself. He liked walking with Caspar because the brawler had no trouble carrying a long, one-sided conversation. He went to find him now and let his mind go on hold while Caspar regaled him with yet another low stakes vigilante drama.

***

Mercedes had been straight up avoiding Felix as best she could after their little spat at the dual birthday party. She really didn’t enjoy confrontation and that was Felix’s main specialty. Now however he was blocking her path as she traveled a narrow stairwell of Fort Merceus. Mercedes braced herself for some angry words.

“There you are,” muttered Felix.

Mercedes winced and tried to sound happy, “Here I am, can I help you with something?”

“I, I wanted to apologize,” he mumbled it under his breath.

Mercedes was having trouble hearing him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Felix turned crimson as he raised his voice, “I want to apologize for snapping at you.” He was yelling his apology in true Felix fashion.

Mercedes’ mouth hung open a little before she finished processing his words, “Um—”

“You can keep thinking of me like your little brother, I guess,” he grumbled. “I know you were just trying to be nice.”

“I thought you didn’t like it though,” said Mercedes uncertainly.

“I don’t like it,” said Felix quickly. His tone softened a little, and grew mournful, “I spent my whole life in my brother’s shadow, and when he died, so many people just expected me to step up and fill his shoes.” Felix sighed and folded his arms, “Glenn was a great knight, but I’m not him, and I never will be. That’s why I got mad at you, I don’t want to be constantly compared to people, I just want to be myself.”

Mercedes didn’t ask for permission to hug him because he’d probably say no. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that’s how I was making you feel.”

Felix was tensing up in her embrace, “Do I really remind you of your Death Knight brother?”

Mercedes squeezed him a little extra and released him, “Well, you don’t look like him, but I don’t know how to describe it other than you have a familiar aura. It makes me feel protective over you—”

“Protective! If anyone needs protecting it’s you, have you seen yourself on the battlefield?” grumbled Felix as he turned bright red.

Mercedes resisted the urge to gently zap him because she was decent enough on the battlefield, even if everyone here was ignoring that. She understood why they weren’t putting her to use on the battlefield; she could just as quickly turn around and use Thoron on the Emperor. She wasn’t keen on murder, but sometimes she guiltily daydreamed if such an act could be justified as serving a common good. “I’m not saying you’re incapable, just the opposite. You’re so ready to run into danger, I just want to be nearby to back you up.” Everyone deserved someone watching out for them, even if they were grouchy little boys who needed cover on the battlefield because they were surprisingly susceptible to magic attacks, or scared little girls who needed the Goddess’ protection.

“Fine, just, don’t call me Emile or anything,” warned Felix with a glower.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been thinking about it a lot since our, um, little disagreement,” it was a nice way of saying fight so she went with it. “I don’t see you as a stand in, there are certainly major differences between you two, I just, I like feeling sisterly towards you.” She naturally acted like a big sister to people, especially to young men that reminded her of her Emile when he was younger. She couldn’t help it but when she saw Felix she saw a little brother in need of her love and help. She feared it made her friendlier than she ought to be to those she saw sweet glimmers of Emile in — Ashe, Felix, even Dimitri — because she was trying to recapture that lost relationship. Strangely she did not feel that way towards Dedue or Sylvain; perhaps they just seemed older to her. She’d been attracted to them in some ways, likely because they did not stir up those nurturing feelings. Maybe she felt like instead of needing to protect them, they could actually protect her.

As for Hubert, he reminded her more of what her brother had become rather than who Emile had been, and she was not sure how to feel about that. She knew that life shaped people into who they were. Emile hadn’t become Jeritza all on all his own, people just weren’t born bad, and she had to constantly remind herself that people were a product of external forces as much as internal. Felix had snapped at her because he hated being compared to his dead brother, Ashe had not whimsically decided one morning to turn on Faerghus, and Ingrid did not hate Duscar for fun. Things had happened to make them this way, even if Mercedes thought they were wrong for it. Mercedes knew that even if she didn’t know the reasons, there was probably something lurking in the pasts of others too. Something had made Bernadetta so terrified and anxious of other people, something had probably made Hubert so cold and angry, and something awful had to have made Edelgard snap at the Church.

Felix harrumphed a little but didn’t argue with her, “Okay. Fine, but I’m not going to call you big sis or something dumb like that.”

Mercedes decided that comment didn’t deserve addressing. She changed the subject, “I was going to go put in my assignment request, if you want to come with me.”

“I think I already know what I’m going to get,” said Felix with a hint of sourness as he followed her. “Patrol, again, and knowing my luck I’ll be stuck with Caspar and Hubert.”

“That sounds like a very interesting group,” said Mercedes politely as they walked.

“I think Hubert tries balance out all of Caspar’s yammering with my silence,” said Felix. “It sucks, every time I think I’ve heard all of Caspar’s stories he has another one.”

They walked for a while until they got to Hubert’s makeshift office at the fort. He wasn’t there but there were schedule request forms and little box to put them in. Everything was always exceptionally organized. She was secretly very pleased to have found a way to ensure she got the night shift when they got back to Garreg Mach. They’d be leaving Fort Merceus tomorrow morning, and Mercedes was eager to get back to somewhere familiar and safe for the winter.

***

Annie was both impressed and appalled at Ingrid's ability to concentrate as she kept a close watch of Garreg Mach from their hidden camp. Ingrid finally let out a huff and frowned, “I haven’t seen any movement at the monastery in the two days we’ve been here. I think we should go check it out.”

“Why would they just abandon it?” asked Sylvain. Annie had to agree, it made no sense. The Empire’s banners were still flying, even if they were off fighting, surely they had left someone in charge. However Ingrid was already approaching the school, lance in hand. Annie grimaced and double checked that crusher was still safely hidden, there was no way she was lugging that thing, and she hustled to catch up with the others.

She was not prepared for what they found. The Empire had not abandoned the monastery at all. They had left guards, and now Annie was looking at what was left of them. Bloodied bodies were strewn about as if a big surprise attack had happened not too long ago, though the bodies were beginning to rot. There was silence between the three Blue Lions as they walked around the familiar and now blood soaked halls.

“Let’s see if there’s any stuff left in our rooms, and then get the hell out,” suggested Sylvain as his grip tightened around the Lance of Ruin.

It was clear their rooms had been opened up and rummaged through, but Annie managed to find a few precious things left. She grabbed her doll her father had carved her, back before he’d left home, and was surprised at how grateful she was to have it back. She grabbed a few other things and then as she idled for Ingrid to finish in her room, Annie scribbled a quick note to slide beneath Mercedes’ door. There was a chance neither of them would ever come back to this place, but Annie wrote it all the same.

_29th Wyvern Moon_

_Dear Mercie._

_I hope this note finds you safe and well. Ingrid, Sylvain, and I are here at Garreg Mach and clearly something very bad happened. I hope whatever it was, you were far from here. I miss you so much._

She paused as she considered how much information to share. It was possible someone other than Mercedes might find and read the note. Annie resisted the compulsion to let her best friend know that they were planning to camp just beyond the monastery for a while in the hopes that Felix and Mercedes would come back. If they didn’t that meant they’d have to go into the Empire itself to rescue them, and no one was quite sure what that would entail. Annie decided it best to leave her parting words short and sweet.

_I hope I see you and Felix sooner rather than later._

_Love,_

_Annie_

_xoxoxoxo_

_P.S. STAY SAFE!_

Sylvain returned with his bag full and the three quietly started to retreat from the carnage. Sylvain raised a fist and they all ducked down. They had started using hand signals to silently communicate while on the road and this one meant, _someone’s here_. Annie could hear a person rummaging around in the greenhouse just a few yards from where they were crouching. Sylvain was signaling, _do not engage_. The three began to quietly sneak towards their path out of there.

Annie had bad luck with barrels and she swore this one came out of nowhere. The noise was extremely loud and Annie braced herself to fight as a big figure emerged with an axe raised. Annette could have fainted from happiness, it was Dedue.


	14. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions are reunited with Dimitri, or a least what's left of him.  
> The Black Eagles return to a very destroyed Garreg Mach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begin Cindered Shadow Spoilers!!!

The four former Blue Lions looked at each other in shock before lowering their weapons. Annie practically catapulted into Dedue’s arms she was so happy to see him. “What are you doing here?” asked Dedue with an almost bittersweetness to his deep and gentle voice.

“I’d ask you the same,” said Ingrid as her eyes traced over the blood on Dedue’s clothes and scars he’d earned since they’d all last seen each other.

“We should not linger here,” said Dedue as he looked at the nearest dead body sprawled out on the ground. “I have a camp near the base of the mountains.”

“Is Dimitri with you?” Ingrid almost sounded a little desperate.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Dedue. He paused and his body radiated with reluctance, “Come, you ought to see for yourselves.” Annie was overjoyed to see him but his words left her cold.

They first went to gather their horses and packs from their hiding spots in the woods and then followed after Dedue. The walk was far and Dedue had never been much of a talker. There were long gaps of total silence among them. Ingrid was a little more incensed than usual and could not let the silence rest, “So do you know what happened at the monastery?”

Dedue kept his eyes on the path ahead, “It was being occupied by Adrestian soldiers.”

“Obviously, I mean what led to their deaths? It looked like a massacre, was there a raid from the Alliance, maybe the Kingdom?”

“Not quite,” said Dedue. “Dimitri and I, we, um, we were trying to get some things, belongings of ours.”

Annie noticed that he was wearing his old scarf that had surely been left behind in his dorm room, and thought of her own doll stowed in her bag. Dedue was gentle and kind, Dedue wouldn’t massacre dozens of soldiers! Plus could he and Dimitri even accomplish such a feat on their own? It seemed unlikely.

“Dimitri suggested he knew a way to cause a distraction,” said Dedue. There was the tiniest hint of disturbance in his voice, “He went down into the bowels of Garreg Mach, and he brought something back up with him.”

“What do you mean, something?” Sylvain was gripping the reins of his horse that he was leading with white knuckles.

“They were things that protect the church, powered by magic,” whispered Dedue. “Dimitri got their attention, and lured them to the surface of the monastery. From there it was just chaos.”

“What are you talking about?” Ingrid sounded like she believed none of it.

Dedue visibly tensed up at her accusatory tone, “I don’t know what they were, it was like watching ghosts fight along side giant machines. I understand how unbelievable it sounds, but that’s what I saw. I watched them killing soldiers, and one or two tried to kill me. I found Dimitri on the bridge and I made him leave, because they were trying to kill him too.”

There was silence over the group until finally Sylvain cleared his throat, “When you say you had to make him leave—”

“I had to knock him out,” said Dedue in a low and ashamed voice. “He would have stayed until he was overrun.”

“Is he alright?” demanded Ingrid. It was a fair question, getting knocked out by Dedue seemed like a rough ride.

“He is physically well,” said Dedue as they neared the base of a mountain.

“Are you implying he’s mentally not well?” asked Sylvain. They hitched their horses and began the short climb up some rocks to the entrance of a little cave in the mountainside.

“Sylvain, how can you ask something like that?” Ingrid was frowning.

“What? He was acting really weird when we last saw him! He’s been missing for months. This wouldn’t be the first time his mind has gotten the better of him,”

“Stop,” hissed Ingrid. “This is Dimitri we’re talking about, he’s our prince, our house leader, our friend!”

“Sylvain is right,” said Dedue. He looked very shaken by his own admission, “I have done my best to protect him, but Dimitri is acting increasingly erratic. I cannot convince him to return to Fhirdiad. He believes his business is here.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” asked Annie nervously.

“He wants to wait for the Emperor to return, so that he may confront her,” said Dedue. He stood at the entrance of the cave and whistled in, “Dimitri, I have found some of our friends—”

“I have no friends,” came a familiar yet strange growl from inside the cave.

Annie gave Sylvain and Ingrid a scared look while Dedue just sighed, “I have brought Ingrid, Sylvain, and Annette to see you. They all survived the battle.”

There was the sound of a body shifting and heavy steps approached them. Dimitri came into the light and Annie did her best not to audibly gasp at his haggard appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and heavily bagged. His teeth were twinged with green, as if he was eating grass and weeds and had forgotten all about toothbrushes. His officers’ academy uniform was so filthy Annie would be surprised if he had taken it off at all since the battle for the monastery seven full months ago. Then there was the blood; his hands were ruddy with a mix of mud and dried blood, and the discoloration stained all the way up to his elbows as if he’d been digging through something dead. Smudges of this muck stood out starkly against his greasy blond hair.

Dimitri regarded them, “Friends. Friends, if you were my friends where have you been all this time? Hmm? You fled Garreg Mach and let it fall to that woman.”

The way he said ‘ _that woman_ ’ made Annie’s stomach do a little flip. Dimitri’s eyes had gotten wide with mistrust, “Are you here to atone? Are you here to bury her too?”

“We’ve been looking for you Dimitri,” said Ingrid; her voice had become guarded and she was holding herself up like she was addressing a knight or professor instead of a friend. “We’ve come to take you back to Fhirdiad.”

“Fhirdiad? Why would I go there when my war is here?” growled Dimitri.

“Right, your war is here,” said Sylvain as he nervously raised his hands as if to physically cool down the situation. “We’ve come to help you.” Ingrid looked at Sylvain like he was the one who had lost his mind, although Dedue looked relieved that Sylvain was playing along. Sylvain cleared his throat and patted his pack, “We figured you could use a good meal, to build up your strength, so you can fight better.”

Dimitri’s gaze narrowed and his nostrils flared. Annie wondered if he was just going to charge them and push them from the mountainside all together. Then his head jerked and he murmured something under his breath, “Fine, they can help us, for now.” It was like he was talking to someone only he could see, and Annie had a feeling that the someone was talking back. She knew she could never breathe such a thought out loud. Instead she was sure she wasn’t going to get any sleep at all as long as Dimitri was nearby.

***

Whoever had attacked Garreg Mach had penned a letter in blood to the Emperor. Edelgard was silently reading the message splashed across the bridge leading to the cathedral. It was huge, and read like a stream of consciousness spilling out like the life blood of the soldiers used to write it. It was a twisted sort of joke that read like a love note between children in its rhyming, but it was clearly a threat.

_Killed your own mother, I will have your head._

_Ending your reign to placate my dead._

_You cut your path, now I will cut mine._

_Across that throat I’ll draw a red line._

The language was eloquent and educated, but the voice was unhinged. Edelgard’s little boot was tapping on the cobblestone, “Who do you suppose left us this?” She appeared calm but there was a simmering, volatile rage building in her voice.

Hubert kept reading the cursed little poem over and over. He would venture “not Arundel” but there were many options to choose from. “Mentioning your mother seems to be an odd and deliberate choice,” said Hubert as he recalled Anselma. She had been beautiful in a way that made it seem understandable why Ionius had lost his senses upon seeing her. She had flowing dark hair, striking purple eyes, and a soothing nature that made Hubert long for a mother of his own when he was young. Now she was lost to history, and presumably dead.

“I haven’t seen my mother since I was eight,” said Edelgard as she folded her arms. Her foot continued to tap. “I suppose Rhea might have known her, she was a student here.”

“This does not read like it was left by a member of the church,” said Hubert as he brought his gaze up to the cathedral. It had been set on fire, and was still smoldering. That was the next place they had to clear. Something massive was blocking the gait, but they were still too far away to confirm what it was.

“Please have this area blocked off, and the message scrubbed away,” said Edelgard discreetly to Ladislava, the head of her personal guard. “I do not want to hear this, this rambling nonsense, repeated, is that understood?”

“Of course your majesty.” Normally unflappable, Ladislava’s voice was shaking.

“Ladislava,” repeated Edelgard softly. “Please do not let your fear show when you address your battalion. Now more than ever we must appear resolute and brave.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, “Yes your majesty.”

While Ladislava oversaw the cleanup of the bridge, Edelgard and Hubert followed Randolph, another general, as they approached the cathedral with a host of troops. It was nearly the start of winter, and the first snow was threatening to fall. The sky was gray and bright but the chill in the air was not enough to mask the heat radiating from the cathedral.

The doors had been barred by…something. Hubert had never seen anything like this before. It was an enormous mechanized doll and it sat slumped in front of the entrance.

“Can something die if it was never alive?” asked Hubert as he watched the poor bastard who had to go poke the inanimate thing to make sure it wasn’t about to spring to life and slaughter them.

Randolph grimaced as he pointed to where the bridge gave way to the chasm below, “Look at the disturbance of the rocks, the soil, I think this _thing_ climbed up from there.”

They exchanged glances, and Hubert sighed, “I suppose we have to go down there and make sure there aren’t more.”

Randolph, to his credit, did not protest but a sense of dread seemed to settle over him at the suggestion. Edelgard appeared unperturbed, “This is a defense golem, designed to protect precious resources of the church. They infest the underground of this place. Something must have caught its attention and lured it here.”

Edelgard’s little “trip” underground was still a sore point for Hubert, who really felt he should have been privy to it. Byleth had gathered the house leaders and rounded up a few others as they descended into the underground networks of tunnels and dungeons that spread out in a maze beneath Garreg Mach. Apparently it had been quite a lively experience and afterward Hubert had become mildly obsessed with learning more about the Abyss. It was a dangerous place to say the least, but the thing about Abyss was if you left it alone, it left you alone. They were keeping their collective nose out of that place and its residents were keeping to themselves. Or at least they had been.

“Do you suppose someone else on that little excursion might have let the golem loose?”

“Well, that would leave Hilda and Claude, or Dimitri,” said Edelgard as a darkness fell over her words. “Everyone else is either dead, left, or has been with us the whole time.”

“Hilda and Claude are most definitely home in the Alliance,” said Hubert. All the Golden Deer had been accounted for by his spies. He had much less certainty about what had become of the Blue Lions. “Dimitri, well, I can’t say I know his mind, but, this is extreme. Whoever did this would have put themselves at great risk.” Hubert paused and dropped his voice, “You don’t think it was one those Ashen—”

Edelgard cut him off with a sharp look, “We’ll talk on this later.”

The golem was eventually cleared from the door and the cathedral was finally open. It was not empty. This was what had become of the villagers and the families of the soldiers. This is where they would have gone for safety and shelter. Instead they had been barricaded inside and burned alive.

Edelgard’s hand was on her chest as she steadied her breathing at the sight of the charred bodies. Hubert worried about her anomaly and the possibility it could be triggered. This was extremely upsetting and Edelgard’s eyes were wide and wrathful. Hubert stepped in front of her to block her line of sight, “I will take care of this. You must go and address your troops about what has happened. Tell them the threat is passed and that we must clean up and rebuild.”

“I will avenge them,” whispered Edelgard, as she did so often under her breath. _Them_ , these people, her siblings, her father, her mother, all her missing memories.

“In time, we must discover who did this first,” said Hubert as he began to urge her to go back to the bridge. “I will personally descend into Abyss and try to find answers for you, but for now, please, let me handle this situation. You must go address your forces, they need their Emperor.”

Her fist unclenched and she nodded though a shadow was still hanging over her expressions, “Come to me when you’re done. We have some matters to discuss.”

“Of course your majesty,” said Hubert as he bowed. “Please keep Petra close by, just in case our enemies are still hiding here waiting for you.” Edelgard nodded and gave one last lingering look up at the cathedral before turning back for the bridge.

It was a long and terrible afternoon spent moving bodies and attempting to identify them. In the end though the remains were merely sorted into children and adults because the bodies were too damaged to meaningfully discern one from another except by size. The inside of the cathedral had looked bad before, but now it was completely wrecked. There were no more pews, and the fires had scorched the warm white marble into a dingy gray streaked with black. The iron gated entrance to the forbidden mausoleum had been blown outward, suggesting that something big had come up from within.

The other exits of the cathedral had been similarly blocked by golems. Hubert didn’t know how they worked or how they were powered, but if he was willing to let his imagination wander, it almost looked as if the golems were intentionally barricading up the exits and not as if they’d been disabled and used to block them. Did that imply these things could think? Had they rounded up and chosen to kill all these defenseless people? Were they the only things that had attacked? There were no easy answers. 

This was how Hubert found himself scaling one of the massive golems to figure out how it worked. Randolph was standing at the base and looking up at Hubert like the mage had lost his mind. Maybe he had, this was truly disturbing, but Hubert loved to tinker with this sort of stuff. Arundel sometimes gave Edelgard ‘gifts’ that were always as fascinating as they were deadly, and Hubert in turn quietly took them apart and put them back together. He’d learned a lot about Arundel’s secretive technology just from doing that. Arundel was arrogant enough to presume that the mere humans of the Empire could never fathom how such objects worked.

Now Hubert was learning about the Church and Rhea as he finally cracked open a little door into the heart of the golem. Gears greeted him. They were bathed in a faint yellowish green light coming from a strange stone at the center of the mechanism. Hubert took a deep breath and climbed inside even as he heard Randolph letting out a little choked noise of surprise. Hubert’s internal monologue steadily beat “ _Don’t kill me_ ” as he squeezed and crawled his way into the center of the thing. If it moved at all, if any big gear turned, he was going to absolutely die or be irrevocably crippled only to succumb to his wounds days later.

His arms were long and thin enough to twist up and grab the glowing stone. He didn’t pray and wasn’t about to start, but he did hold his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as his hands wrapped around the dinner plate sized object. He gave it a sharp pull. It stopped glowing, but nothing else happened and Hubert crept back towards the exit with his prize. It wasn’t a stone at all, it was a metal cylinder with a cracked glass orb in the center. The hollowed glass sphere had contained blood, which had dribbled from the crack and dried. What had been glowing was a precisely etched magic circle that Hubert immediately recognized as a faith based formula. After investigating them all, he found the other golems appeared to have been powered by the same sort of arrangement. Soon Hubert had his own little collection of metal disks to mess about with.

“I want these things dismantled and documented,” said Hubert to one of the members of his personal battalion. His little corps of engineers were all dark mages courtesy of Arundel, and Hubert trusted them about as much as he trusted praying.

“We will take the disks,” suggested the masked mage as he began to reach for the one presently in Hubert’s hands.

“I will be studying these in detail,” said Hubert sharply. Like hell he was giving whatever this was over. He carried them personally so that they would not go missing in transit to his office.

He was dirty, he was sweating, and he was covered in an awful mix of char, blood, and gear oil. He would certainly be visiting the sauna before presenting himself to Edelgard. As he walked back through the fading light, there were still more bodies that had been piled up. These were the soldiers that had died in whatever attack had driven their families and the villagers up to the cathedral. Hubert suspect that when he got the numbers tomorrow morning, there wouldn’t be much room for potential survivors. They had not left a huge force to defend the monastery, and they had not brought a huge force with them now. The snows would begin soon and then they would be trapped here all winter just waiting to see if what had attacked returned.

As Hubert passed by the dock on the way to the dormitories a soft scratching noise caught his attention. He paused and listened for the source. There were rows of bodies in shrouds laid out on the flagstones. Next to one of the staircases there was pile of messy crates that had been partially crushed. The scratching continued and Hubert figured this was some poor animal that had gotten stuck.

Hubert shifted the bodies and heard a soft submissive mewing. In the dark cavernous space of crates of discarded objects, Hubert’s cat stared back at him matted with blood. If he had not already been emotionally drained by the tasks of the day, now he was tapping out as he reached in and met no resistance. No bites, no growls, just his scared stupid cat looking worse for the wear. “Come on, we both need to be cleaned up,” murmured Hubert as he nestled the ugly cat with its stinking fur against himself.

By the time Hubert and his cat were clean and he was able to visit Edelgard, the hour was extremely late. He looked around her dorm room and thought that this was hardly befitting an emperor, but this was where she felt safe. “Your majesty,” said Hubert as he bowed.

Edelgard was staring out her window with a pensive look splashed across her face, “This place was razed by whatever attacked and yet it is only our people and those golems among the dead.”

Hubert didn’t know what to tell her. He like facts and reason, logic and order, not this chaos that had beset their base and killed off their troops. “The golems appear to be powered by some sort of faith magic, possibly mixed with blood.”

“Crested blood no doubt,” whispered Edelgard as she studied her own bare arms. She rarely exposed them but here in her nightgown the scars left by the experiments were plainly visible. “When we were down in Abyss, there was a chalice and that madman from the church was using the blood of the ashen wolves to power it.”

Edelgard had described the Chalice of Beginnings and the vile ritual she’d observed to Hubert, but as for its fate they had not come across it again. Hubert personally thought that Byleth learning about his mother and his own strange heart down in Abyss was what had ultimately caused the professor to turn against Rhea, but that was all speculation and all of Hubert’s information was second hand.

“My uncle desires crest stones and dragon bones, but blood is also highly valuable to him.” As she said it she traced her fingers along the raised scars. Edelgard sucked in a breath and brought her stare up to Hubert, “I have taken the liberty of inviting someone here to help answer some questions regarding my mother, and what that message in blood might have meant.”

“Are you inviting Arundel here?” asked Hubert as a tightness gripped his chest.

“No, I’m sure he’ll come at his pleasure whether he is welcome or not,” said Edelgard with her voice seeped with bitterness. Her tone softened slightly, “No, I invited your grandmother, she knew the imperial consorts better than anyone, I am hoping she can shed some light on things. I have long had questions, and now I think it's time I finally found the courage to ask them.”

“You invited Agatha to Garreg Mach?” said Hubert as he tried to suppress the disbelief in his voice. He hoped he had misunderstood.

“Indeed,” said Edelgard in a way that left little room for arguing. “Now, back to the matter of Abyss. The students, the Ashen Wolves, they disbanded when all was said and done. Constance von Nuevelle went to Fhirdiad, Hapi suggested she was going home, but possibly coming back, Balthus, eh, I believe he would go to the Alliance to fight alongside Holst Goneril. As for Yuri, I don’t know, I don’t think he’d join us without our professor here.”

“Do you suppose Balthus might have done this on behalf of the Alliance?” He was the only one with a potential motive.

Edelgard let out a small scoff, “If he had, we’d know because he cannot resist bragging.” She folded her arms, “Ask around down there if anyone saw an outsider. Do what you must to get the information.”

He would go as soon as things settled down on the surface, though that could take weeks. “I was patronizing a stall for months before the summer, hopefully they’ll welcome back a loyal customer,” mused Hubert. He had picked a merchant with a nice central view of the underground market to be his main informant. The stall carried decent enough wares, though Hubert did not need _that_ much spirit dust. Over the couple months he’d been sneaking around Hubert had learned how to blend in down there. Like when he was a boy running away from home, Hubert made sure to dress shabbily and in an easy to ignore way. He changed the way he carried himself, and the tone of his voice. It was uncomfortable just how well he fit in down there in that den of murderers and thieves. He was nothing more than another rat in the gutter when it came to Abyss.

***

It had been a bad day. There weren’t any wounded to treat, only bodies to shroud and stack. Mercedes had been assigned to work near the entrance of the monastery and it was clear that this had been a surprise attack by the way the soldiers were sprawled about without much armor on. There was not a single sign of a dead enemy though, just dead Adrestians. The village had been attacked too, and there were people fallen in their doorways and merchants slumped over their carts. Children, dogs, cats; it seemed like every living thing had been snuffed out.

When Mercedes finally got back to her room there was a note that had been stuffed under her door. Annie had been here, but after this attack. The date at the top of the precious note was the 29th, and today was merely the 31st. Mercedes’ heart was pounding knowing that Annette still had to be close. Since the attack though the patrols and guards around this place had been maxed out. Mercedes had about as good a chance of escaping as she did locating Annette in the massive forests and mountains surrounding the monastery. Mercedes didn’t know what to do, and she usually prayed when she felt uncertain. However, she’d heard some rumors about what had been found inside the cathedral, and it made even a simple prayer difficult to get across her lips.

There was a curfew in place, but Mercedes took her chances sneaking around after dark. She had to see what was rumored about the cathedral for herself. Mercedes should not have been surprised by what she found, but she was heartbroken all the same. Rows of burned bodies greeted her as she held a tiny flame within her hands. Mercedes walked inside the massive tomb that the cathedral had become in the last year. This place had once been filled with parishioners, now it was filled with ghosts. Mercedes let her flame go out as she let the moonlight filtering in through the damaged ceiling guide her path.

She stopped in the shadowy cool colors of a stained glass window and raised her eyes to stare at a kind, benevolent rendering of Sothis in the glass. “How could you let this happen?” whispered Mercedes. She understood the deaths of the soldiers, to a degree, but the families, the village, the animals? It was senseless killing. “You’re supposed to love people.” Mercedes was shaky and her face was getting wet with tears. “These people came to you for protection.”

The depiction of Sothis illuminated by the moon beamed down at her with a gentle smile. Mercedes’ heart was swirling with sadness and anger. _Everything happens for a reason._ The reason for all this was simply the cruel indifference of goddess who couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t, intervene. Mercedes wasn’t sure what was worse: a Sothis that turned her back on people, or a Sothis that was dead and buried more than a millennium ago.

Mercedes was blinded by her pain as she raised up her hand and cast a spell she had never had the emotions to produce before. Miasma shot forth from her hands and shattered the beautiful and loving image of the goddess before her. The spell ripped through her like his skin was being flipped inside out by raking thorns. She stared at the destruction in disbelief that it had come from her own hands as she sank to her knees and gave in to her tears.

***

They had coaxed Dimitri from the cave to the forest and nearer to the road north. Ingrid was convinced if she could just get through to him, that he would want to go home rather than staking out the monastery. She nearly had him agreeing to go when a faction of the Imperial Army returned to Garreg Mach. Now Dimitri was obsessed with returning to cause more damage. He spoke often of what he wished to do with Edelgard’s head.

They were camping too close to the monastery in Annie’s opinion, and she had a constant fear that they would be caught. Dedue wished to go back to the safety of the cave, Ingrid wished to get Dimitri home as soon as possible, and Sylvain and Annie just wanted to find their friends and get the hell out. Dimitri appeared only to want to kill Edelgard.

After several days of this, things were getting stale within the group. It had snowed which helped to hide their tracks but it was getting colder. Annie had a warm cape on but she wasn’t used to being outside in the cold for so long. She sat shivering by the little fire they’d set up for cooking their dinner. Dedue was preparing a stew (Annie was super glad she wasn’t eating Sylvain or Ingrid’s cooking exclusively now) and paused his potato chopping to get something out of his bag. Dedue pulled free an elegant teal and orange scarf and handed it over to Annie, “For you Annette, this was my sister’s.”

“Dedue, I can’t, I can’t take this from you,” said Annie in shock. It was beautifully woven and extremely warm. “Especially if it belonged to your sister, that’s, no, I can’t take this.”

“I do not need a scarf to remember my sister,” said Dedue. He thumbed his own Duscarian style scarf around his neck; it had the same colors but a different pattern. “I think my sister would be happier knowing someone was wearing it and enjoying it, rather than it sitting in the bottom of my pack.”

Annette bit her lip and then accepted the gift. She looped it around her neck and smiled, “Thank you, it’s making winter easier already.”

Dedue smiled and touched her shoulder, “It looks good on you. Wear it in good health.”

Annie usually avoided talking about families. Her own situation was painful to explain, which had probably been one of the things that first endeared her to Mercedes when they met. It seemed normal enough to be in conflict with ones parents or siblings here and there, but it felt like her friends had grown up in extremes of bad situations. As a group they avoided talking about it, even as their class missions kept taking them into Faerghus and sometimes into direct fights with loved ones. Annie heard snippets and whispers that missions into Adrestia or Leicester were no cake walk, but, as far as she knew the Church hadn’t assigned anyone else to take down their fathers or brothers. It just wasn’t fair. Ashe should not have been forced to fight Lonato. He was never the same after that mission, and Annie had seen him flinch a time or two in training when Dimitri accidentally snapped a lance just like he had into Lonato’s throat. Sylvain should have never been put up to bringing Miklan down. It was unavoidable by the end of that battle, but maybe if people were warned what would happen if they used a relic without the right crest then Miklan would have never stolen it in the first place. Sylvain, true to form, he had laughed it off at the time but Annie was learning to see his pain now, and his rage.

Annie pushed back her own discomfort about talking of families and loss, and smiled up at Dedue, “Will you tell me more about your sister?”

Dedue looked down at her in surprise, and then recovered with a small, shy smile, “Of course.” He paused and stared, “I am afraid I do not know where to begin.”

Annie studied the pleasing pattern in the fabric again, “Did your sister pick this scarf out, or did she make it?”

Dedue visibly relaxed as he began to add some precious potatoes to the cook pot, “She was learning to weave from our mother, who made these scarves for us.” Dedue gave a little tug on his golden earring, “My mother was a very fashionable woman in our village. She made the finest looking fabrics, and my sister was learning that trade. I spent time in my father’s forge learning his craft.”

“Did you make axes?”

“We didn’t make weapons,” said Dedue as he stirred the ingredients together. “We made farming tools, scythes, spades, and hoes, we made horseshoes and nails. We made a lot of noise mostly.” He laughed to himself as if remembering a joke he had shared with his father. He straightened up and gave Annie a passive look, “I loved them, but now I am all that remembers they lived.”

“No,” whispered Annie as she reached out to grab one of his giant hands, “No, now I will remember them too. Thank you Dedue.”

He looked at her little hand and she saw his throat bob, “No, thank you Annie.” She wanted to tell him they were together, and soon they’d have Mercie and Felix back, and things could get better again. She didn’t get to finish that lovely thought though. There was noise getting closer that captured the group’s attention. Sylvain held up a fist, and the Blue Lions dropped to silence. Someone was coming. One voice carried through the forest: Caspar von Bergliez was out here.

“What do you mean I talk too loud?” Caspar was practically shouting. “This _is_ my indoor voice.” His companions were much harder to hear, but it was clear he wasn’t alone. Everyone picked up their weapons and prepared for a fight.


	15. Divisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight in the woods sends the Blue Lions scattering

The number of patrols had drastically increased in the wake of the attack. Why Hubert had decided Caspar was right for this job was beyond him at the moment. Hubert took a deep breath, “Caspar, there could be enemies out here, that’s the whole point of a _silent_ patrol.”

Caspar gestured around the empty woods. It was very quiet out here and each step of their boots seemed incredibly loud as they crunched through the first snowfall of the season, “There’s no one out here! It’s winter.”

Thankfully Felix was taking things seriously and not talking at all. He was glowering as usual as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword and his keen eyes traced about the landscape. Caspar began to run his mouth again when Hubert cut him off, “This is so typical. You’re always yelling out what you’re going to do on the battlefield. You essential tell the enemy what’s about to happen to them.”

“Yeah, that’s how I get into a fight, is that a problem? It’s called trash talking, it psyches me up,”

“The only trash is your technique,” snapped Hubert, his patience finally broken. “You’re going to get yourself, and everyone unlucky enough to be around you, killed.”

“What’s your problem?”

Hubert had a lot of problems, and his temper was one of them, “You, you are my problem. You have total disregard for—”

They had just stepped around a dense thicket and straight into a camp of familiar faces. A whole smattering of Blue Lions were ready to strike. There was about two heartbeats of silent confusion as they all looked at each other before all hell broke loose in the clearing.

“Aw fuck,” groaned Caspar as he brought his gauntlets up to block the first hit coming his way from Ingrid’s relic lance.

Felix looked panicked as he drew his sword. This was an extremely unbalanced fight — five against three — and these were Felix’s friends. Hubert had a burning fear this fight was about to turn into six against two but then Felix stepped in to parry Sylvain’s glowing lance.

Hubert turned just in time to dodge a well placed wind spell coming his way courtesy of Annette. Hubert focused on taking her out as he backed up. He sent a particularly explosive Mire blast her way as he tried to identify where everyone was. Dedue and Ingrid were tag-teaming Caspar, Annette was now hiding behind a tree waiting to strike Hubert again, and Felix was fighting Sylvain. Hubert realized he had no line of sight on their most powerful adversary, the prince. Felix was yelling for a retreat and Hubert was inclined to agree. They were certainly not going to win this, and the likelihood they would fatally lose increased with each rushed breath.

Over the clash of weapons and yelling it was impossible to listen for what was around him. To Hubert it sounded like an animal attacking, but it was really Dimitri growling from behind him. There was a sound of metal swiftly moving through the air and the tearing of fabric and flesh. Hubert looked down to see a rusting lance blade emerging through his right side. The world suddenly seemed a lot duller as he was pushed from the blade by a boot to land face down in the snow.

 _Vulnerary_ , he had a vulnerary. That was the only thought his brain was sending. Too bad his hands were shaking too hard to open the damn thing. He felt someone lifting him and snatching the round potion cask from his hands. Caspar was uncorking the bottle with his teeth and tipping the potion down Hubert’s throat. His body flooded with ice as it hit, but then his blood continued to run hot down his front. He definitely needed something stronger than a single vulnerary.

“Felix, we gotta move,” yelled Caspar as he hoisted up Hubert. The two began to stagger from the woods and back in the direction of the monastery. Hubert was staring down to watch his feet moving and the trail of blood he was leaving in the snow as Caspar drug him in the direction of Garreg Mach.

** <4 minutes earlier**

Of all the camps to crash, why’d it have to be this one? Here they were — Sylvain, Ingrid, Annie — with the _boar_ and his loyal lap dog. Like hell Felix was surrendering to Dimitri. _Shit_. Felix did not want to be fighting his friends. He was frozen with indecision, when Ingrid aimed her lance at Caspar’s face. Caspar cursed and threw up his gauntlets to block and that’s when hell broke loose.

Sylvain seemed to spring to life as Felix drew his sword. “What are you doing?” demanded Sylvain in confusion as they started to exchange blows.

“Why are you here?” retorted Felix as he pressed back with his sword.

Caspar was barely handling Dedue and Ingrid, and Hubert was casting at Annette. Felix was grateful Hubert’s aim was so shitty as he watched Annie diving for cover. They had only had two dates, but Felix was pretty sure they weren’t having any more after this.

From the corner of Felix’s vision he could see Dimitri stumbling forward with his lance gripped tight. The prince’s movements were unusual — hunched and fast — and Felix was transported back in time to the battle to put down the western rebellion. It was the same frenzied thrill in the prince’s eyes now as it had been in 1178, the only difference was they were meeting as enemies instead of allies. This was going to end in someone dying if they tried to fight, and Felix really did not want to fall to Dimitri in front of all the people he cared most about.

“We need to retreat,” called Felix as his attention split between trying to keep his eyes on Dimitri and the tip of Sylvain’s lance. Sylvain wasn’t going to kill Felix, hopefully, but Dimitri might. Caspar was cheering himself on as he clocked Ingrid in the chin, sending her tumbling back. He let out a surprised yelp as Dedue’s axe then almost took off his arm.

Felix watched as Hubert practically backed right up into Dimitri’s attack. He went down, and Dimitri was looking for his next kill before he even pushed Hubert’s body from his lance. “Caspar, get Hubert, get him now!”

“Fuck,” yelled Caspar as he spotted Hubert on the ground.

Felix took a deep breath and prepared to defend them from Dimitri; maybe now everyone else would finally see what Felix had seen all along. Felix dipped away from Sylvain and worked to block for Caspar. Dimitri lunged forward at the bait and Felix began to move to draw the prince away.

This wasn’t like one of Ingrid’s dumb books about knights. There were no pretty words or declarations of right and wrong. There was only the adrenaline pumping in his blood and the practiced flow of his sword as he finally fought Dimitri for real. A part of him had been hungering for this for years, but now that he was finally here Felix was feeling more fear than thrill. Dimitri’s eyes were looking at him as if he had no idea who he was.

Caspar had one of Hubert’s arms over his shoulders and was physically dragging him back towards the monastery. Hubert’s legs were maybe hitting the ground correctly every three steps. That was a bad sign but at least he was still alive, for now anyway. Felix started moving back to provide those two continued cover. They had to get out of here because this was not a fight they had any chance of winning.

He could see Sylvain helping Ingrid up and Dedue grabbing Annette and pulling her behind him for safety. If Dedue got in on this skirmish Felix was going to die. However it was quickly apparent that Dimitri didn’t need any help with killing him as he finally tackled Felix. The Blaiddyd crest caused Dimitri to snap his weapons, and right now Felix felt like one of the prince’s lances as the weight of his former house leader bore down upon him. His sword flew from his hand and landed too far away to grab.

Dimitri was snarling like a feral animal as his hands wrapped around Felix’s throat to cut off his air supply. Felix was fumbling around for his sword and grabbing only snow instead. He tried to throw Dimitri off of himself but that was useless. Felix pawed blindly and grabbed at Dimitri as his hands finally wrapped around a weapon.

Felix swiped wildly with the dagger hoping to scare Dimitri off of him. However, as he was swinging, Dimitri’s face was coming in closer to stare at Felix without recognition. The blade sliced deftly across the prince’s right eye releasing a cascade of blood. This did get Dimitri to stop attacking. The prince pulled back with a guttural yell as he covered his injury. He stumbled backwards off of Felix and started to run into the woods like a wounded animal. Dedue shouted after him and gave chase leaving the clearing suddenly still.

Felix panted on the ground in disbelief as his three friends still in the camp stared at him in shock. There was hot blood, Dimitri’s blood, across his face. Well, he supposed he was committed to the fucking empire now that he’d just almost killed the prince of Faerghus. His father, Rodrigue, was definitely going to disown him for this. _Fuck_. He hurried to get up and grabbed his sword. With a fleeting look at his friends, he stumbled through his feelings, “I, I’m sorry, for all this. Goodbye.” He ran after Caspar even as he heard them shouting after him to come back. Felix wasn’t sure he could ever come back after that.

***

“Felix wait!” Annie’s eyes were brimming with tears as she made to chase after him.

Sylvain grabbed her, and pinned her arms to her sides as he held her back, “Annie no, we need to get out of here.”

“What?” Annie felt like her world was collapsing around her. Felix was here and within reach! They could just take him back, couldn’t they?

“Dimitri might have just killed Hubert, do you really think Edelgard isn’t going to lose her shit?” Sylvain released her, “We have to leave like five minutes ago.”

“We have to go find Dimitri and Dedue,” said Ingrid; her words were harsh with physical pain. Her jaw was bruising and she was shakily administering a vulnerary to herself.

“Dimitri tried to kill Felix!” shouted Sylvain back in her face.

“Felix is a traitor,” said Ingrid. Her words left no room for disagreement.

Annie was hyperventilating as they argued. Her thoughts were scrambled in her head and begging for some structure to make all this chaos make sense. Felix had stabbed Dimitri in the eye. Dimitri had been ready to kill him. Mercedes was still stuck in Garreg Mach. They were going to get caught by Imperial soldiers.

“That was self defense and we do not have time to bicker about this,” growled Sylvain.

Ingrid looked in the direction Dimitri had run and went to pick up their supplies as quickly as possible, “I’m going after Dimitri. He’s wounded. He’s not well. He needs our help more than Felix.”

“Fuck that,” Sylvain spit into the snow.

“Annette, come on,” said Ingrid as she started to load things onto her horse.

“I, I,” Annie was in shock.

Sylvain put his hand on her shoulder, “Don’t die for them, come with me.”

Annie weakly nodded and Ingrid frowned, “I can’t believe you.” She was clearly directing her rage at Sylvain but Annie felt it too. They haphazardly split their supplies, Ingrid got on her horse and went in Dimitri’s direction, while Sylvain and Annette fled east to get as much space between them and Garreg Mach as they could before nightfall.

***

“Concoction, now Mercedes,” barked Manuela as she examined the wound. Mercedes rushed to grab it and ignored the chaos gripping the infirmary. Manuela was batting Caspar out her way, “If you want to be useful, get his arms under control, if not, get out of here.”

Caspar was beside himself, “This is my fault, I was being too loud—”

Felix looked like he had seen a ghost as he paced. His voice was hoarse, “It’s not your fault Caspar, we walked right into it.” He had blood all over his face, but none of it belonged to him, and his neck was bruising. He had a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other and he gripped both with white knuckles.

Linhardt winced at the gory scene as he arrived and got to work. Mercedes finished administering the concoction and then joined hands with the two other healers as they started up an intense round of their faith magic. Caspar held Hubert’s head still as he looked down at the mage, “I am so sorry Hubert, please don’t haunt me.” One of Hubert’s hands weakly came up to pat — or maybe smack — Caspar on the face as his eyes started to glaze over. His pupils were stretching to the point where the green of his eyes was barely visible as he stared blankly at the ceiling. At least the concoction was working.

“That could have been a lot worse,” said Manuela as the healers unclasped each other’s hands after what felt like a whole shift. Mercedes felt lightheaded from the effort.

“He’s not going to die?” asked Caspar with audible relief.

“Not today,” said Linhardt as he cautiously palpated the new scar adorning Hubert’s torso. “He’s lucky it didn’t hit his kidney. Then I think he’d definitely be dead.” Mercedes winced at Linhardt’s blunt bedside manner. He never sugarcoated things.

Caspar looked down at Hubert, whose lids were heavy yet not shut, “Hubert did you hear that? You’re going to live! Thank goodness because Edelgard would have completely killed me if you died.”

“She still might,” said Linhardt as he closed Hubert’s eyes. “Caspar he’s not going to be hearing anything for a while.”

“You mean he’s deaf now?” Caspar’s mouth was hanging open in shock. Linhardt took a deep breath and started to lead Caspar out of the infirmary, to everyone’s immense relief.

Mercedes turned to see Felix crouching in the corner. His skin was pale and his hair was all over the place. He looked like he was still living through the battle they’d come from. Mercedes knelt down beside him, “Felix, come on, will you take tea with me?”

Felix nodded passively as she pulled him into the back room of the infirmary. Mercedes was spending a great deal of time here. She had the night shift, which meant sleeping here on a little bunk and being ready to wake up to heal someone at odd hours. It was also the break room, and store room. Manuela was presently in the concoction cabinet measuring out another dose.

Mercedes started the kettle and selected a nice calming chamomile tea. She got out a wash cloth and began to clean off Felix’s face. “Mercedes, I did something, really bad,” mumbled Felix.

Mercedes felt a chill run through her heart at his tone, “What happened? Who were you fighting?”

“Our friends,” said Felix as his eyes came up to lock with hers. Tears were silently streaming down his face as Mercedes swept him into a hug. Felix buried his face against her shoulder and shuddered, “It was Sylvain, Ingrid, and Annie.”

Mercedes was horrified as she wondered whose blood was all over Felix. “Are they okay? Do they need help?”

Felix was shaking hard, “I, I stabbed Dimitri in the eye.”

“Dimitri is here too?” Mercedes wanted to run from the infirmary, but she knew that soldiers had been dispatched to the woods already. Oh Goddess, were they going to bring her friends in as prisoners or dead?

“He ran off, and Dedue after him,” said Felix as the kettle started to whistle. Other raised voices were echoing from the infirmary. Apparently news of the attack had reached the Emperor.

“I want answers, I want their heads,” snapped Edelgard. Mercedes squeezed Felix close in disbelief as she silently wished that Edelgard would not get her way.

***

Hubert von Vestra was high as kite on concoctions. Edelgard found this highly disturbing, but she was in the minority there. Most people were coming to visit Hubert just for the delight of hearing what would come out of his mouth next. Mercedes finally banned certain people from visiting — Dorothea especially — because it was getting embarrassing and Edelgard was concerned he was going to start dropping state secrets.

Mercedes was sorting supplies in the back room of the infirmary alone when she heard a crash. She found Hubert trying unsuccessfully to escape, again. He’d managed to free himself from the bed and was presently sprawled on the floor heading towards the door like some slow moving crab creature. Mercedes was super eager for him to heal up and stop being such a complete mess as she knelt beside him, “Hubert, where do you think you’re going?” She swore she was breaking out restraints if she caught him doing this again.

“My office, I have to write it all down,” said Hubert in broken bits. He resisted as she attempted to help him up and back towards the bed.

“Write what all down?” Mercedes felt like she were talking with a child.

“El’s memories,” he whispered as he gave a fleeting look to the door and the impossible distance it would be for him to cross.

Mercedes wasn’t going to pretend she had any clue about what he was talking about as she crouched down to try to get level with him. “Hubert you need to rest. You had a really bad injury.”

“I know, I know,” he said several times. “But if I die, there won’t be anyone to tell her.”

Mercedes didn’t like the way he was hyperventilating. Sometimes he was calm and loopy on the concoctions, but other times like now he was just upset and frustrated. She reached out to take his wrist and found his pulse racing. “You need to lay down,” said Mercedes as she pulled him up and pushed him back onto his bed. “Instead of work, why don’t you focus on, I don’t know, not missing the chamber pot? Or would you rather go back to the bedpan?”

Hubert’s face turned red as he avoided her eyes, “No thank you.”

“Please relax, you’re not going to heal if you stay all worked up,” urged Mercedes as she firmly pressed him back into his pillows. He wasn’t especially strong right now and it would be funny how easy it was to overpower him if the situation wasn’t so annoying. “Are you hungry? I can bring you some broth—”

“No more soup please,” said Hubert in a soft disgruntled voice, like a child refusing their vegetables. It was all he was cleared to eat for now. The concoctions were slowly knitting his insides back together and Manuela had him on a strict clear liquid diet, and absolutely no coffee. He was miserable about it when he was cognizant enough to think about it.

Mercedes gently palpated his bandaged wound. She noted how he winced, “Are you still in a lot of pain?” Honestly when she learned he’d been struck down by Dimitri she was surprised he wasn’t dead. He would have been if Dimitri had managed to aim about two inches higher.

Hubert just nodded. Mercedes checked her watch and figured he was due for another concoction. At least then he’d probably sleep and stop trying to go do paperwork. Mercedes gave him a stern look, “Stay put, I’m getting your medicine.”

She had to go to the special locked cabinet for it, a vulnerary was easy to administer, but concoctions were strictly controlled. Many people found the high they caused a little too pleasant, and the last thing the infirmary needed was someone helping themselves to a little escape from the war. Hubert was thankfully still in bed when she got back. He looked resigned to his fate.

“Please don’t make me take that,” whispered Hubert as he eyed the small brown bottle in her hands.

“Hubert, this is helping you relax and heal,” promised Mercedes. It was also helping him stay in bed and out of her hair.

“It makes my mind foggy,” said Hubert with a miserable twinge to his words. He seemed frustrated, “I can’t make words work how I want.”

Mercedes pursed her lips and uncorked the bottle. He was speaking nonsense more often than not but this concoction was as much for him as it was for her to be able to keep him placated. “Well it would make me very happy if you would take this medicine and get well again,” said Mercedes gently as she attempted to be as comforting as she could manage. She was incredibly stressed herself by everything that was going on — grappling with the horrible massacre, knowing Annie was nearby and in terrible danger, trying to get her own faith magic back up to standard — and it was very tempting to just pop a concoction herself and take a nice dreamless nap. She sighed internally at such a urge. She rubbed Hubert’s thigh beneath his covers, “What did your mother do to help you sleep as a child? Maybe I can do that.”

He sat up and exhaled softly at such an offer, “Just give me the concoction.”

Mercedes helped him drink it and then forced his mouth shut so he couldn’t spit it right back up — concoctions tasted as bad as they looked — and sat at his side for a few minutes with a little basin just in case he did vomit it up. The effects of it were becoming apparent as he fell back into his pillows and his mood began to drift towards an uncharacteristic pleasantness.

His mouth was attempting some sort of lopsided grin that did not suit his face at all, “Thank you for not letting me die.”

“Excuse me?” asked Mercedes in confusion.

“I know you hate me,” he whispered like he was sharing a secret.

“I don’t hate people Hubert,” said Mercedes. It was true. She strongly disliked people, including him, but she didn’t really hate anyone. Her faith in the goddess was too shaky right now to produce any sort of decent healing, and Mercedes had begun to turn to faith in herself and her ability to persevere. She could be good even when everything around her was bad, so she hoped, and that was the central rock of strength she was channeling as she worked in the infirmary. People needed _her_ , now more than ever that the Goddess’ absence was so harshly apparent. She wasn’t going to let someone in her care die, whether she wanted them there or not. She was actually wishing for his speedy recovery so that he wouldn’t be in here any longer than absolutely necessary.

Hubert’s eyes were fluttering open and shut and Mercedes knew it wouldn’t be long before he passed out. He was softly chuckling to himself. Mercedes decided to humor him, “What are you so entertained by?” She held his hand knowing that when it went limp she could be sure he was asleep.

“Do you ever get hooked upon a _what if_?” his eyes were beginning to glaze over. “What if I did this instead of that?”

“All the time, most people do I’m sure,” said Mercedes. She was always wondering what would have happened if she and her mother had been able to take Emile with them, if they hadn’t left at all.

“I don’t usually, there’s not much room for doubt on this kind of path,” he murmured. His voice was distant and on the edge of sleep, “But, what if I did more than kiss you on the night of the ball? What if we had another dance, and another after that?” Mercedes found herself dropping his hand and staring at him with an unexpected heat in her cheeks. Perhaps Edelgard was right to fear Hubert leaking secrets while under the influence.

He looked at the hand she’d released and then back up at her with a small sleepy sigh, “Thoughts best saved for a dream then.”

He was quickly asleep after that and Mercedes couldn’t give him a piece of her mind. She sincerely hoped that was just the concoctions talking. She would just keep her distance as much as possible until he was off them. Hopefully when he wasn’t out of his mind on healing potions he’d keep his tongue to himself, literally and figuratively.

***

“Care package for General Hubie,” announced Dorothea as she sat down on his bed and poked at him in the ribs. Hubert squinted at her, still feeling like he’d been dropped from a second story window, as she presented the wrapped package to him. He spied his grandmother’s curly handwriting on the top. Agatha’s updates were where Dorothea had first gotten the nickname Hubie back when Byleth assigned her to mail duty for the Black Eagles.

“You can open it,” murmured Hubert as he sat up. He was being weaned off of the concoctions and it felt like an axe was slowly splitting into his skull. Everything was achy from brain to big toe.

Dorothea beamed, “Oh if you insist.” She tore into it and passed him the note that was at the top. Dorothea began pulling out the things within with glee, “Oh my goodness, Hubert please if your grandmother is look to adopt a granddaughter, or replace you, I’m available.” She produced a perfume from the top and gave it a spritz, “She has the best taste.”

Hubert coughed at the smell as he tried to read the little note but was interrupted as Dorothea began to put a sweater onto him by force. “She made you pullover!” Hubert was powerless to stop the songstress from smothering him in wool. Dorothea laughed as he struggled to get it over his head, “I think she’s thinks you’re much bigger than you actually are.” He was swimming in it.

Hubert remembered this pine green sweater, “She made it for my uncle.” It had been half finished when Al died and it had taken her many years to pick up her knitting again. Hubert scanned over the note — Enbarr was quiet and boring, for the best — and looked at the box. “She said there’s tea for Edelgard, and a toy sword for Caspar.”

“What’s all the ruckus?” Mercedes appeared, drawn by the noise.

“Grandma Vestra’s quarterly care package,” said Dorothea as she continued to pull stuff out. It had grown from his grandmother just sending him small comforts from home and notes to a highly anticipated box of goodies hand picked for each recipient.

There was a sack of coffee beans from his favorite roaster in the capital, and hard to get Brigid spices for Petra. Agatha had sewn Linhardt a new silk pillowcase. Notably there was nothing for people who did not get friendly mentions in his letters home, such as Ferdinand. Maybe Hubert would toss him a good word and he would get a gift next quarter. Perhaps not though, Agatha was known to hold grudges and the von Aegirs were high on her shit list.

“You have a grandmother?” Mercedes sounded surprised.

“Yes, she raised me, mostly,” said Hubert as he reread the note. There was an update on his step mother (snooty and shopping for a new husband) and his two younger half siblings (brats but with potential) who had lost their home to the war effort and now lived in the narrow Enbarr townhouse with Agatha. This was sent long before Edelgard’s summons would have reached her. He wondered how long he had before his grandmother arrived. He really hoped she did not see him like this.

Mercedes looked at Dorothea and all the stuff on the bed, “Excuse me, I have a wound to check.”

Hubert apologized as he and Dorothea started to pile things back into the box. Mercedes was looking everywhere but at him as she waited. She was being distinctly cold and Hubert wondered what all had happened in the big three day gap of his memories since getting stabbed. He did not like being on concoctions and he especially did not like coming off a several day bender of them. He was finally allowed solid food but he found he did not want it. He was sure he’d never vomited this much in his life.

Hubert knew the drill by now; he pulled his sweater up and rolled onto his left side so she could see both scars. They were less off putting now, but still needed a daily spell session. Manuela promised he’d be out of here three days from now, but that meant he was missing a complete week of work and who knew what chaos was unfolding in his absence. He did not look forward at all to the catch up and putting out all the fires that were being set by those currently managing his duties.

Mercedes' hands weren’t especially gentle as she pressed and palpated. She tapped what he imagined was his kidney with a sudden force, “Have you been peeing blood?”

Dorothea started snorting and Hubert found his neck felt suddenly hot, “No.”

Mercedes motioned for him to lay on his back and started to press on his abdomen, “Bloody stool?”

“Not since yesterday,” muttered Hubert. Manuela had told him shitting blood after this type of injury was going to go on for a bit more than seemed comfortable, but that was normal.

“And have you had a bowel movement today?” Mercedes tone was so dry he almost wondered if she was having fun at his expense, but that really wasn’t like her. Dorothea was red in the face and shaking she was trying so hard to suppress her laughter.

“No,” managed Hubert.

Mercedes sighed and pulled down his sweater, “Well, let me know how it goes when you finally have it.” Mercedes paused and thumbed his sweater with approval, “Your grandmother is a good knitter.”

“She is, thank you,” murmured Hubert. He spoke up as she made to leave, “Don’t you have to do any more healing spells?”

Mercedes’ eyebrows rose, “Oh I almost forgot.” Her hand slipped up beneath his sweater and Hubert was awash in a gentle warmth. He could feel her kindness when she did this, just like he imagined his enemies could feel his wrath in every Mire and Miasma. Mercedes’ hand lingered just a moment extra and he found himself yearning for more of their skin to touch. It dawned on him that this was what it was like to crave someone. Perhaps the passion he saw between others was possible for him to feel. Hubert’s pulse quickened as he pictured being with Mercedes. Not just with her intimately, though that thought was burning in his mind, but being around her and having her enjoy his presence rather than despising him. Her hand was gone as soon as those thoughts had a life breathed into them, and Mercedes was walking away to see to the rest of her daily tasks, blissfully unaware of the effect she had on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter summary: Hubert becomes a holey man.


	16. Down into the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When life pushes you into a well, you must learn to climb out.

Annie was watching the small fire they’d built with a heart too weighed down with sadness to feel anything more. She and Sylvain had headed northeast and hadn’t encountered anyone since their little group was smashed apart. Ingrid had done the brave thing by going after Dimitri while Annie chickened out and stuck with Sylvain.

“Are we being cowards?” asked Annie finally, breaking the long silence they’d been sitting in.

“Depends on who you ask,” said Sylvain as he played with a long twig. He’d light the tip on fire and then quench it in the snow until it was totally gone, and then he’d grab another stick and do it all over.

“I’m asking you,” said Annie as she stared at him.

Sylvain sighed and let the stick idle. “Cowardice is complicated.” He shook his head, “Dedue is the closest person to Dimitri. I’d say he’s a little too close, too close to see that Dimitri’s not right.”

“I think he noticed,” said Annie in a flat voice. It would be impossible not to.

“Yeah but I think Dedue and Ingrid think Dimitri just needs a rest or something and he’ll snap right back, like before,” said Sylvain.

“What do you mean like before?”

“I mean the Tragedy, when everything went to shit in a second. I wouldn’t say he was ever the same after that, not completely, but he figured out how to act okay,” said Sylvain. “Look, I’ve known Dimitri for a long time, longer than anyone else. When I was eight, King Lambert went to war with Sreng. My father shipped me to Fhirdiad so I’d be safe, and to attend Dimitri. I was trained to be his vassal, which he was like six, so it wasn’t that hard. I just remember being slapped by how different all of it was compared to what life was like in Gautier. I never knew how rough things were up there because it was all I knew,” said Sylvain as he resumed lighting the twig on fire. “After the Incursion, Rodrigue got real important so that’s when Felix moved to Fhirdiad. When Ingrid was betrothed to Glenn, she moved to court too. It was really nice to grow up like that, with a bunch of close friends compared to living at home with my dad and my brother.” He was staring at the flaming tip as it started to go out, “But I think Dimitri was done a disservice because growing up, when he fell, someone was always there to lift him back up. He never had to learn to pull himself out of a well.”

“Is that a metaphor?” asked Annie skeptically.

“No, my brother pushed me in a fucking well one time and left me there,” said Sylvain. His words were edged with anger and she could see the way his expression hardened as he reference Miklan. “You know what my dad said? Get stronger.” Sylvain snapped the twig in two and tossed it into the fire to watch it burn, “My point is that Dimitri was always surrounded by people who loved and protected him, and when they were taken away he wasn’t the same. He didn’t know how to climb out of that misery without someone giving him a hand. Rodrigue, me, Felix, Ingrid, we all worked together to pull him up and out of the dark place he fell into because of the Tragedy. Now I just don’t know if Ingrid and Dedue are strong enough to reach him.”

“Then that’s all the more reason we should be helping them,” said Annie quietly.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’ll pull us all down to join him,” said Sylvain with a darkness to his words. “He would have killed Felix. We all saw that. It could easily be you or me next.”

Annie couldn’t argue about that. She had been caught between wanting to blast Dimitri with Cutting Gale and frozen up by the idea of fighting a friend. Sylvain folded his arms and watched the flames as the silence overtook them again. They didn’t have a plan, but with the way they were traveling it was clear Sylvain was directing them towards home.

“Felix and Mercie are still at Garreg Mach, they need us,” said Annie. She didn’t want to go home and wait for the war to come to her.

“If we get caught, I won’t be surprised if we’re executed on the spot,” said Sylvain. “If Hubert died from that attack, do you really think Edelgard’s not going after his killers?”

Annie had never thought she’d be hoping Hubert survived a bad hit. It had been pretty low, right through his guts, but Annie could recall Alois’ enthusiastically delivered list of places on the body that were always fatal and the ones that were only sometimes mortal. She could practically hear his cheerful boisterous laugh, _“Trust your gut!”_ It was a nasty place to be injured, but at least faith magic could fix it if administered in time. Annie wondered if Mercie had been forced to heal him, and how she’d probably do it without question because she was that good.

Annie didn’t feel very good. They had been so close to saving their friends and now they were days away from the monastery, running with their tails between their legs. “I’m not giving up on them,” said Annie. It wasn’t just Mercedes and Felix, although they ranked higher in her heart, it was Dimitri too. She had a feeling Dedue and Ingrid weren’t going to successfully tempt him back to Fhirdiad, they were probably going to spend winter prowling around in the wild. Annie didn’t want to go all the way back to Fhirdiad, she wanted to be closer to the action than that. This was it, either she convinced Sylvain to help her, or they were going to have to part ways. “As long as they’re at Garreg Mach for the winter, we’re probably not going to get anywhere close. But come spring, they’ll be marching again. I say we wait until they’re out in the open, and then sneakily rescue Mercie and Felix.” They’d pick them off from the herd and get away.

“What are we going to do for the months they’re hunkered down? We don’t have enough food, we don’t have enough gold,” challenged Sylvain.

“You act dumb but I know you’re not that stupid. We’re probably the two smartest Blue Lions, we can figure this out,” said Annie. It didn’t make much sense to stay out here. The weather alone was dangerous and Sylvain wasn’t wrong that if the Empire’s forces caught them they weren’t going to have a good time, but they didn’t have a lot of options. “We need to send word to Duke Fraldarius about Dimitri, but it’s going to be terrible trying to get back to Fhirdiad in the snow.” She paused, where could they go that was friendly, and easier to get to? “We should go towards Derdriu.”

“Excuse me? Like, go hang out with Claude?” Sylvain sounded incredulous at the suggestion.

“Well we know the Empire fought the Alliance all summer, it might be wishful thinking, but maybe they’re going to keep fighting until they capture the Alliance and then they’ll fight the Kingdom,” said Annie. “I mean you’re the one who likes board games! What would you do? Fight two fronts, or one at a time?”

“It would be easier to do one, and the Alliance is more exposed,” mused Sylvain.

“Look, going back to Fhirdiad is going to be hard for the next few months and we could get stuck up there by snows through the spring. Leicester is warm, if things don’t pan out we can just leave,” suggested Annie. “But Claude probably has a plan! We could help him put the Empire down—”

“Claude isn’t in charge of the Alliance,” said Sylvain as her little dream bubble burst. “But, I agree that going that way will be easier than getting home and then just having to turn around and march back.”

Annie smiled for the first time in a long time. It was far from an ideal plan but it was something. She was fired up and charged after being filled with a great deal of despair.

***

Manuela gently poked and prodded at Hubert’s sealed up wound. The skin around it was still yellowed and green with bruising, with a brilliant reddish purple surrounding the uncomfortably straight line of scar that was the width of a lance blade. “It’s going to be tender for a long time, but you’re on the mend. Try to take it easy, and keep checking for things herniating out where they’re not supposed to.”

“Wonderful,” said Hubert as he pulled his shirt back on. “Anything else?”

“Just remember who valiantly saved your ass when you’re doing your little budget balancing act,” said Manuela with a sly look. She had been pestering him for more healers in the field all summer.

“Noted,” said Hubert as he got up. He was leaving the infirmary with a tray full of vulneraries to help him sleep comfortably, and he was dreading the amount of work that had likely accrued during his little rest.

His room was much as he left it. He winced in pain as he slowly dressed in some proper clothing. Hubert sucked in a sharp breath as he tucked in his shirt against the wound. At least now he looked presentable for the Emperor although his jacket was missing. He hoped it had been mended for him but it could have just as easily been deemed a loss.

The cat was back, and sounded pleased as Hubert gave him a quick scratch. It felt good to wear gloves again although he didn’t like the way his hands were shaking. He’d just have to clasp them behind his back to hide the tremor.

Hubert knocked upon Edelgard’s door and tried not to react to her haggard appearance when she greeted him. The emperor immediately hugged him and Hubert could not help the choked little noise he made as agony filled his belly. Edelgard practically jumped back from him, “I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me. Please, come in.”

“It was nothing your majesty,” lied Hubert. His eyes kept lingering on how disheveled she appeared. Though it was already getting into the afternoon she had not properly dressed. His heart sank as he spied his jacket, stiff with blood, in her bed.

She followed the line of his sight and went to fetch the garment, “I apologize. I meant to have it repaired for you, but it became too hard to let go of.”

Hubert carefully folded it over his arm and pondered what the right response to this was. “We both knew the risks when we began this endeavor. There will be battles we don’t all return from.”

Edelgard sighed and gestured for him to sit at her chair while she settled back into bed. “You need to rest,” she said slowly. “You need to regain your strength.”

“I have just rested for a week,” said Hubert. He tried to sound in good spirits, but that quickly fell flat. He was no good at faking happiness or mirth, “My lady, I will not over exert myself, but I do not like to idle.”

“I’m ordering you to rest. The others have been picking up the slack in your absence, they can handle it for a little longer,” said Edelgard. “Ferdinand has been leading the helm, and I dare say he has been doing a good job.”

Hubert felt his jaw clenching at the mere thought of being replaced by Ferdinand. There were some tasks though that only Hubert could handle, “Have you been sleeping this last week?”

Her heavy lidded violet eyes stared at him passively, “I have spent my nights remembering rats and the faces of my siblings as they devolved into madness.”

“I will make you the sleeping draught tonight—” started Hubert.

“No,” she cut him off and shook her head. “No I need to remember these things. My memories aren’t gone, they’re just, out of reach.” Edelgard yawned slightly and pulled up another questionable object she’d been sleeping with, her dagger. “This was recovered from Prince Dimitri during the battle.”

Battle was a generous way to describe what had happened. Scuffle or scrimmage, or a downright ass kicking was how Hubert was viewing the encounter.

“I thought your dagger was lost,” said Hubert as he recalled how upset Edelgard had been when the sentimental weapon was misplaced around the time of Jeralt’s death.

“Apparently not,” said Edelgard. “On the subject of the prince, I am hopeful that we will find him sooner rather than later.”

Hubert preferred to never see Dimitri again, “And what do you plan to do with him?”

Edelgard was fiddling with her blade, “I plan to use him as leverage to bring the Kingdom under my control.” She put the dagger back in its sheath, “I have some questions for him, but from Felix and Caspar’s account, it seems he is less than stable.”

As she gave a secondhand account of Felix’s brush with Dimitri, all Hubert could hear was the growling that the prince had uttered behind him. Thinking about it made an uncomfortable heat creep up from his chest into his neck. Edelgard was suddenly looking at him very closely and Hubert felt blindsided; how had she crossed such a distance so fast? Her fingers were warm on his neck as she felt at his pulse, “Hubert, Hubert? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” said Hubert, though now he was feeling confused.

“You just stopped speaking and your eyes were extremely distant,” whispered Edelgard. She frowned, “This is too soon to be discussing such matters. You need to go sleep.”

“I am not tired,” insisted Hubert. He had just been distracted for a moment.

“I do not care, it was an order,” said Edelgard as she pointed towards the door.

“As you wish, your majesty,” said Hubert with a voice as stiff as the dried blood upon his jacket.

Hubert didn’t do _rest_ unless it was a resting sinister face. Had Edelgard really just sent him to his room like some child to nap? Hubert shut his eyes and tried not to focus on his feelings of incredulity, of uselessness, and of redundancy. His freeloading cat hopped up onto the bed and tried to sit on him, so Hubert nudged him away.

He folded his arms to prevent himself from becoming a cat sofa and frowned at the ceiling. The cat meowed at him. Not a cute little meow, more like a yowling yell. “No wonder no one else would take you in,” grumbled Hubert at his noisy companion. The cat, deterred by his folded arms, instead walked right on the scar on Hubert’s abdomen. Pain shot through him and so Hubert relented and let the cat — _his cat?_ — come and knead its paws into his chest in a vain attempt to get his body to be comfortable. Hubert hesitantly scratched the feline, “So, do you enjoy the name Mr. Grumplekins?” The cat, being a cat, said nothing. “It’s a bit too cute for you, don’t you think?” What was he saying, cats didn’t think. “How do you feel about Grump, or Grumple? Perhaps General Grumple?” The cat purred and Hubert decided that was the creature’s consent to be renamed something more suitably scary.

 _Mr. Grumplekins_ , only a ridiculous person would come up with such a name. A ridiculous…charming and kind person with their head in the clouds half the time. A person who didn’t hate people but had to hate him for conscripting her into an army fighting against the people she loved. He thought about how he’d been fighting Annette in the woods, and what Mercedes would say if she heard he’d fired off a spell at her precious Annie. He imagined her healing spells wouldn’t be quite as warm if she knew.

He could have killed Annette if he’d been able to focus but that whole couple minutes was pure chaos. Hubert shut his eyes and tried not to think about the guttural sounds of Dimitri behind him right before he struck. It didn’t matter what Hubert wanted though, the memories were intruding into his mind like the lance had pierced through his flesh. He had to think about something, literally anything, else before he got caught in this anxious loop.

Hubert thought of the night of the ball. He let his mind empty out all the glowing relics, all the growling princes, all the spells exploding trees. He forced his mind to turn away from Dimitri’s hulking form over him while his blood soaked the snow to a dance in the dark with a woman he’d barely ever spoken to before that.

He’d heard Mercedes speaking, of course, just never really to him personally. She spoke all the time of trivial things: shopping, praying, knitting, baking, always so much baking, make up, and other things largely useless to him. He never heard her linger long on the subject of family. Instead she giggled and daydreamed. Then he helped start a war and she didn’t get to enjoy those nice things any more.

Hubert’s eyes fluttered shut as he continued to scratch his cat and tried to focus on that night with the dance, and the kiss. He tried not to think about how his only other kiss had been with a prostitute, because that line of thought took him to his father cracked apart by Dark Spikes. He focused instead on how Mercedes had kissed him, teasing and carefree. Spontaneous and fearlessly. Not because she had to, because she wanted to. It had been overwhelmingly surprising to him, and he suspected that had rather been her aim. He’d been telling her how he liked to be able to predict what people were about to do, and that had been her response to show how unpredictable she could be. A jest, in retrospect. A well played joke. She had admitted to liking pranks after all, and perhaps that’s all it had been.

That was not all he wanted it to be. He wanted to kiss her again, and that desire refused to leave his mind alone. Yet, the thoughts of curling up next to her under a peaceful tree were tempered by the memory of her smashing a glass into his head in an admirable escape attempt, the cookies for her birthday she didn’t want from him, the discomfort in her eyes as he spoke to her too familiarly. She did not want him, and she never would. Mercedes seemed to go with the flow of the world rather than against it like him. They were simply not compatible. Objectively he understood this, and found it perfectly reasonable. They were enemies, perhaps always to be opposed at a fundamental level, and no amount of conscripted healing was going to suddenly make her fall in love with him.

Even if she magically did, because it would surely take some serious magic, it was hugely irresponsible. They were at war, and she was a distraction. Hubert gave General Grumple a long look. “I know what you’re thinking,” muttered Hubert as he scratched the cat behind the ears. “I’m being weak. I agree.” With that scooped the cat off himself. The cat made his displeasure known as he tried to bite Hubert, and Hubert was reminded how much he did not like cats as he went over to his desk.

There was no time to rest. He had bigger problems to deal with than idling his mind on a crush — goddess, why did it have to be on Mercedes of all people — that would never become anything. This too would come to pass. No, he just had to be feeling the effects of her faith magic. He had felt friendlier towards Linhardt after being healed by him, and this had to be the same phenomenon. Although he was still friendly with Linhardt, one might even just say they were almost friends outright these days, and Hubert was suddenly struck with the fear this crush could be _permanent_. No, no he had to get his mind off Mercedes and onto real issues.

His chief concern was the Arundel problem and figuring out exactly what they were up against. Hubert had thought going through Seteth’s records would at least shed some light on the likes of Arundel and what exactly he was, but there was nothing. No mention of secret cults operating in Adrestia, and no mention of strange shape shifting creatures that could wear the skin of the dead. As far as Hubert could tell, Seteth, and by extension Rhea, had no idea what was going on in Enbarr a decade ago.

The Church had done nothing about the Insurrection because the Hresvelgs had all but kicked them out of the Empire. They let the Imperial family fall for that, but they did not worry about what the Empire was falling to. Hubert pulled out his files on Arundel, Solon, and Kronya. He had notes on Jeritza and trying to figure him out, which was proving difficult, and he was attempting to learn how this all related to what had happened to the counties of Hrym and Ordelia. Lysithea had eventually given him a torturous first hand account of her experiences, but she had been a small child and her memories, while significant, were not a full picture. The Western Church too, were their actions really an internal power struggle? Hubert needed answers, and he knew where he was going to have to go to continue his research. He was going to have to descend into Abyss and return to that library Linhardt kept going on about.

***

Mercedes finished penning her letter home and carefully placed it in the pile of outgoing mail that was collected near the entrance of the monastery. She pulled out her little purse and made sure to slide a coin in to cover the postage. She knew the contents of her letter would be combed over so she did not dare try to ask anything about anything related to Dimitri. Instead she carefully phrased her question if there was any changes in the capital. However with the snows hindering travel she knew it would be months before she heard anything back.

As she walked through the snowy monastery she recalled that a year ago she and Annie had been getting excited for the White Heron Cup and waiting for Hanneman to announce who would represent the Blue Lions. Sylvain had resolutely lost, but if it had been a comedy routine he would have gotten full marks. Unfortunately no one, not even Ferdinand, stood a chance against Lorenz and his years of dedicated professional training.

Mercedes had a good view of the cathedral as she walked. She sighed and still felt guilty for destroying that stained glass window. It had been a fit of passionate rage she’d never experienced before, and it truly scared her. She wasn’t feeling quite as guilty about her ill feelings towards the goddess though. She’d cool down substantially, but now Mercedes was just filled with questions.

Linhardt had craftily taken over schedule making in Hubert’s absence purely to reclaim his midnight shift right out from under her. This left Mercedes with her evenings open to search the library for information about the history of the Church. She’d found a few books but they all told the general story of the war of Heroes that Mercedes already knew. Seiros and Wilhem I along with the Ten Elites fought a long war against Nemesis, and won. Then the Empire controlled the entirety of Fodlan for almost seven centuries. Mercedes wondered if they would again.

As she passed between the sauna and the dorms she heard a noise in the dim light. Mercedes looked over to see Hubert, of all people, dressed down and clearing aside a flimsy looking barricade. He looked over his shoulder quickly and then dipped behind the boards. Mercedes frowned as she wondered what he was up to. She had _just_ healed him, he had been told to rest, and she swore if he landed right back in the infirmary she was going to kill him. Plus where on earth was he heading? Mercedes strolled over and slipped into the space he’d gone into. It was a tunnel, with no lighting, and Mercedes cautiously started to follow it with one hand on the wall. She was descending stairs and it was very tight in the tunnel. Suddenly a flash of very weak black magic illuminated the space right ahead of her. Hubert cursed under his breath in surprise as he saw her, “Why are you following me?”

Mercedes pursed her lips and was glad he hadn’t just blasted her with a spell. Perhaps tailing Hubert was not a good life choice, “I was curious what you were up to. You just got out of the infirmary and I’d hate to see you back so soon.” She truly, truly would.

Hubert looked exasperated, “Thank you for your concern, but where I’m heading is of no interest to someone like you. Turn around and go back.”

“How do you know what I find interesting?” Mercedes folded her arms and looked down at him a few stairs beneath her.

“I won’t pretend to understand how you think at all,” said Hubert with a flustered huff. He promptly turned and continued to walk.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mercedes continued to follow him, grateful now for the light to see the path. She was glad he’d gotten at least one practical black magic spell down in the time they’d been practicing.

“It means you confuse and perplex me. I do not like your unpredictability,” said Hubert as they continued to go deeper and deeper underground. The air was growing noticeably chillier as they walked, and Mercedes tightly drew her shawl around herself. He stopped abruptly and she nearly bumped into him, “This is Abyss.” Hubert pulled back a tattered dark curtain and Mercedes was greeted with the unexpected sight of a market lit by torches.

It was like a little town, but completely underground. Mercedes thought she knew the monastery well, but apparently Garreg Mach still had secrets left to discover. She could scarcely believe such a place existed. 

“Most people have no idea all this is down here,” said Hubert as he let his magic go out. Suddenly his shabby clothes made sense, and Mercedes felt like she stuck out like a rose in a garbage pile in her old school uniform. “Try not to get lost.”

He knew where he was going as he weaved through tight corridors of market stalls and up a flight of stairs. They slipped through some doorways and arrived in a massive library. “This is where Seteth sent all the objectionable books in the monastery.”

There was an overwhelming amount of shelves and tomes, and there were possibly more than in the proper library, “These are all banned books?”

Hubert nodded, “And others that have ended up here for one reason or another.” He was already at a shelf perusing.

Mercedes was surprised to find books mentioning the goddess, but not as she knew her. There was a reason Seteth had banished these books, perhaps they were written by blasphemers. Or, perhaps they shared uncomfortable truths. She gnawed on her lip and pulled herself a nice little stack. She was already stealing books from the regular library, so she might as well continue with these.

Mercedes picked up an innocuous looking book, _Encyclopedia of Foldan Insects_ , and idly flipped it open. She was surprised to find not bugs, but dissected bodies illustrated in exquisite detail. Mercedes closed the book and examined the cover closely only to find that it was a false cover. She dared to look again and found it to be a wealth of medical information. Mercedes decided this could not hurt to take either.

She watched as Hubert opened up a slim volume and then quickly shut it. He regarded it for a few moments before slipping it into his satchel and moving on to the next shelf. He seemed intently interested in a burned up looking set of reports.

“Anything good?” asked Mercedes as she came over to join him.

“Much of this is just drivel, pornography, blasphemy, and otherwise offensive material, but, some of it is useful. History is written by the victors, but to truly understand an event you have to look at it from multiple perspectives.”

“You know I took you for someone preoccupied with current events, not a history buff,” said Mercedes as she held her fake book on insects to her chest.

“There are, certain actors in Fodlan that I am interested in, and this is the only place I’ve been able to find any references to them,” said Hubert. The closer she got the more stiff and uncomfortable he acted.

Mercedes looked down into his satchel at the slim volume he’d grabbed earlier, “What is that book?” She could just make out the title, “ _Words of Love_?”

Even in the dim light the intense pink his face had taken on was hard to miss. Hubert said nothing as he covered up the book with the burned reports in his hands. Mercedes followed him from the library, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the hopeless romantic type.” At least not when he was off the concoctions.

“I’m not,” said Hubert as they walked through the strange underground city. “But perhaps it might be something I could be interested in understanding someday.”

“Someday?”

“After the war,” whispered Hubert. “Assuming I survive it.”

They descended the stairs towards a market and passed stall after stall of questionable wares. The hooded sellers stared at her with mistrust. She was surprised by a child bumping into her and the sensation of a tiny hand in her pocket. Before she had a chance to react, one of Hubert’s long slim arms was reaching out to grab the pick pocket’s wrist, “Nice try.” The child dropped her change purse and darted off. “Be careful with your wallet down here,” advised Hubert as they continued. He stopped to chat with a merchant and peruse for some interesting looking things — spirit dust, secret books, talismans and premium magic herbs — while Mercedes was drawn to a produce stall. She tried bartering for some fruit preserves but she felt a little bad haggling down here, these people looked like they were living on the edge, and just ended up paying full price. She was going to make cookies with a nice little jelly center with it.

“Who else knows about this place?” asked Mercedes as they continued through the depths. She had no idea so many people lived beneath the monastery. She wondered what their experiences were like during the battle to take the monastery, or during the recent massacre. She did not expect it had been pleasant.

“Linhardt turned me onto the library, and Ashe pointed me to a weapons cache. It’s rather spotty but sometimes there’s a hidden gem,” said Hubert as they descended deeper into a marketplace. “There’s a tavern, and I was told Hilda Goneril used to pop down here to drink and arm wrestle if you can believe it.”

Mercedes didn’t have much trouble picturing that. As they walked they passed by a sort of alter, and Mercedes stopped to look at people praying to a hooded statue with wings. “What is that?” She whispered it so as not to disturb the believers.

“A pagan goddess,” said Hubert. He brushed a finger along the spine of one of her books she’d lifted, “Apparently Sothis isn’t the only deity in Fodlan.”

Mercedes was reminded of all the gods of Duscar she and Dedue had once spoke of, and all the spirits of Brigid that Petra was sharing with her. “So why did the church allow this place to exist right beneath it?”

Hubert shrugged as they surveyed the underground town. “Supposedly Rhea recognized that even undesirables need a place to occupy.”

Mercedes hung upon that word, _undesirables_ , as she looked around. There were children here, families living in filth and squalor, and everyone looked like they were living hand to mouth. “And what is the Emperor’s plan for this place?”

“There is no plan, we leave it alone,” said Hubert as he looked around. “It’s a potential security issue though. Whatever attacked while we were gone originated from down here, so we may shut it entirely, but for now it carries on.”

People lived down here, they couldn’t just get rid of it. “If you seal up this place, what will happen to the people?” Hubert was quiet and Mercedes felt a little stirring of compassion in her heart, “You can’t just get rid of someone’s home and leave them no where to go. This is terrible down here. They should come up and live in the village.” The village was a literal ghost town these days. 

“These are murderers, thieves,” started Hubert.

“Maybe because they were forced into a life of crime,” suggested Mercedes. “Maybe they won’t have to steal if they don’t live in such squalor.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Hubert with such extreme reluctance he might as well have just said no. She’d have to work on him. He glanced down at her, “Come on, we shouldn’t linger here. Let’s get back to the surface.”

Mercedes was still brimming with questions but Hubert was very clearly not interested in engaging with her as they ascended back up to the monastery. He seemed far more interested in the books she had taken than giving her any information, “What are your plans with those?”

“To read them?” No she was going to hit him over the head with one, what sort of question was that?

“I would very much like to retain them, like I said I am doing research,” began Hubert.

“I stole these books fair and square,” said Mercedes as she gripped them tightly.

Hubert stared at her with indignation. “Will you please consider storing them in my office so that I might be able to access them? This isn’t about pleasure reading, this is a serious problem I’m investigating.”

“Only if you’ll consider moving all those people into the village,” said Mercedes. She felt less bad about bartering with Hubert than the poor Abyss merchant.

Hubert’s nostrils flared, “Fine, if you prepare a reasonable proposal for how that transition would occur.”

Mercedes mouth opened and closed. She had not been expecting him to agree. “Fine. I will leave the books I am not presently reading in your office, and I will submit my proposal within the week.”

Hubert held out his bare hands. She hadn’t even realized he’d had his gloves off down there, but it made sense. Wearing the stark white gloves would have marked him as an outsider, “I’ll take the books you’re not reading.”

Mercedes chose to keep the _Encyclopedia of Fodlan Insects_ and handed over the rest. “Enjoy _Words of Love_ ,” she teased before walking off in the direction of her room. She heard him make some little disgruntled sound as he paced off in the direction of Seteth’s old office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hubert's going to be so disappointed when he finally tries to read Words of Love.


	17. Dare to know, dare to dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes and Hubert both read books, separately, and have some strange dreams. 
> 
> Ingrid gets a haircut

Hubert had taken over Seteth’s office following the capture of Garreg Mach. It was conveniently located and had a couch for him to lay on to read these papers he’d swiped from Abyss. The burned documents were hard to make out and incomplete in spots but one page had caught his eye and refused to leave his imagination alone. It was an fragmented thought on the remnant of the report about Loog’s armies and weapons like relics. Edelgard’s words about Arundel desiring dragons’ bones echoed in his mind. Perhaps Arundel aimed to manufacture his own new relics.

“ _What is the true identity of Pan, the tactician rumored to have been integral to Loog’s victories. And Those Who Slither in the Dark..._ ”

A tactician of mysterious origin pricked at Hubert’s suspicious mind, but he couldn’t tell whether Pan was with the curiously named things that slithered, or if that was something else entirely. At least four pages were missing judging by the numbers and the notes picked up with the formation of Leicester, and something about the Shadowed Order of the Knights of Seiros. Was that intended to be a slight at the knights, or separate order entirely? Hubert knew the ins and outs of the shadows all too well and it wouldn’t surprise him if Rhea had a secret selection of knights doing her bidding. Hubert paged through and mention of Duscar caught his eye, with that same shadowed order coming up yet again.

He transcribed each word and fragment into his notebook and underlined the phrase that kept rolling about his mind, _Those Who Slither in the Dark_. It conjured up images of what Edelgard had told him about her time begin held by Arundel and his dark mages down in the bowels of the Imperial palace. He made a small acronym for ease of writing, TWSITD, which evoked twisted, like a rope round the neck. Hubert tapped his pen to his lips as he considered the book Solon had given him, and the networks of dark mages that must exist. While Mercedes had been staring at the strange statue people were praying to down in Abyss, Hubert had been keenly watching a woman with a veil over her face. He could smell the faint rot around her; she had to be a dark mage suffering the advanced effects of dark magic use. If Mercedes hadn’t been there Hubert would have liked to have spoken to that mysterious woman, but Mercedes, innocently in her old uniform and girlish sweater asking too many questions, had been drawing stares. There was a good chance Hubert would never see the veiled woman again, but he’d have to go back and at least try.

He sighed and set the burned reports aside. His tired eyes lingered on the other book he’d grabbed, that he was still embarrassed that Mercedes had noticed, _Words of Love_. Hubert glanced at the shut office door and then plucked the book from the pile. The table of contents had been why he’d taken it in the first place. The first section was _How to Compliment a Lover_ , but he’d already had a lesson on compliments. His eyes scanned down the page and lingered on _The Art of Seduction_. With a deep breath he opened to the correct page only to find it all redacted.

“What the hell,” murmured Hubert as he flipped through the little book. A loose note fell free and Hubert recognized Seteth’s handwriting. “ _Words of Love, censored 15th of Great Tree Moon 1180 after being found on the person of Sylvain Jose Gautier_.” Hubert shut his eyes in disgust; of course this was Sylvain’s illicit pickup manual. Hubert tossed the book towards his waste bin.

He felt foolish for having even entertained the idea of reading such a book. What hope did he have at seducing anyone? Hubert sat up through his little aches and pains, and got back to journaling. He had to record what the Abyss merchants had told him of the stranger that had triggered traps deep within the tunnels. The perpetrator had been a dirty, blond youth in the uniform of the monastery. Hubert didn’t like gambling but he’d take the bet it was Dimitri. It meant that if Dimitri had done this once, he could do it again. Hubert thought of the confusing message scrawled in blood and wondered if that was Dimitri’s work too. It didn’t seem like him, but Hubert didn’t think whatever traps had been set off were very literate.

The Abyss would have to be sealed off for the safety of those on the surface. Dimitri had to be found and contained for everyone’s sake, though Hubert was loathe to participate. He didn’t want to see Dimitri, he didn’t want to hear him, he didn’t want to think of him and so he forced the prince from his mind. He focused on other problems he could solve without making his heart race, like how to close off the underground tunnels.

Mercedes was annoyingly right that they couldn’t just tell those Abyssians to get out in good conscience. He was curious to see if she would actually come through with a proposal and a shameful little part of him wanted to indulge her ideas just so she might like him a little more. However it was best not to think of her either and Hubert committed himself to taking notes on as many of the Abyss books as possible before sleep took him. He dreamed of dark mages in masks slithering into the throne room and throwing Dark Spikes that snaked through his grandfather. He dreamed of Arundel, the real one, taking Edelgard away and wings snapped off a toy pegasus. Layered into these familiar unpleasant dreams was a new lurking shadow. In the periphery of his nightmares Dimitri stood like a regal ghost, unhinged and waiting to strike.

***

Mercedes was snacking on baked ginger snaps as she read through the _Encyclopedia of Foldan Insects_. There was not a single bug in the book save for a scattered silverfish or two squished between the pages. She found quickly that it was more than a medical text, though the dissected bodies were fascinating. She was revolted at first, but as she read more she was finding the images highly useful. She had seen some of these depicted structures exposed in injuries, and had she known what was supposed to connect where, she might have attempted to heal things differently. Manuela was always going on about the limits of faith magic, and Mercedes had naively assumed that with a crest she could overcome such shortfalls, but here was actual medical science. Yet there were also notes on the relationship of medicine undermining the foundation of the church. That frustrated Mercedes because the church ought to want people to be saved by whatever means possible in her opinion.

She continued flipping through pages and was met with schematics for machines and reasons for why they were banned. It was all forming a biased view of the church as suppressing information and painting a damning picture of Rhea. However, Mercedes figured if she’d been mislead by one text on Seiros, she could just as easily be mislead by another. She wanted to know the book’s origins, and began peeling at the false cover until it started to pull free. Mercedes carefully revealed the true cover, but did not understand the language it was written in. _Sapere aude Agartha_. There were symbols reminiscent of those she’d glimpsed as part of dark magic formulas. She traced her fingers over the embossing and wondered if this was in fact a functioning dark magic spell circle.

Mercedes set aside her cookie and pulled out her own notebook to write some of this information down. She saw that the last thing she’d taken notes on was from Hanneman’s class which made her pause. Being a student felt like a lifetime ago, and Mercedes supposed it was now eight months since she’d sat in class with her friends. She wondered where Annie was right now. She hoped that her friends were safe and far away from here. There had been no signs of them, but every few patrols a soldier would fail to come back. Something dangerous was out there, but Mercedes was having a hard time reconciling the Dimitri that she knew with the Dimitri Felix spoke of fighting. Yet she had seen the bruises on Felix’s neck and the shock in his eyes. She had held him as he rattled in his seat. He was still withdrawn and subdued by it though it had easily been more than a week now.

Praying was comforting to her but more so when she believed the goddess was listening. With her eyes shut and a heavy heart Mercedes wondered what to pray to; if Sothis was nothing more than a ghost, what did that mean? Mercedes loved ghost stories, but not because she believed that they were real. Yet old habits died hard, “Please Goddess, if you can, keep my friends safe. Protect them.”

Mercedes began to do a pencil transfer of the cover and focused on transcribing as much information that she found useful as possible. She had a feeling Hubert would be all over this book when she traded it in, and besides, she had more texts to look at. Much later in the evening, Mercedes rested her head in her arms just to give herself what was supposed to be a quick break but turned into a full night’s sleep.

She dreamed of the monastery, but not as it was now. The present monastery had become a tomb of the dead blanketed in snow lately, but in her dreams she felt like she was walking through the place where time had stopped and shattered. Faint and familiar music, a waltz if she had to guess, was playing as Mercedes strolled alone through this desolate promenades. In the distance she thought she saw a flash of green moving like the wind carrying a swirl of leaves. Mercedes followed the teasing whirlwind all the way to the cathedral. The place was still a wreck, but somehow warm and inviting. Vines crept up the walls to the entrance and the bones of the building were being reclaimed by nature. Sunlight streamed in from the massive hole left in the roof, lighting the place up in the absence of candles. A statue of the goddess in the center was draped in greenery growing over her like a hooded robe, creating a look reminiscent of the pagan goddess statue Mercedes had glimpsed in the Abyss.

Mercedes was lucid enough to sit before the statue and put her hands together to pray, “If this is a vision, I could really use a revelation.” Mercedes had read of the goddess visiting people in dreams but she’d never experienced anything like this. She opened her hands again and stared; she was now wearing a ring on each hand. Her left was pristine but her right was faintly scarred from a forbidden magic. Mercedes laced her fingers together as she pondered if this was a riddle or perhaps she shouldn’t have been eating ginger snaps so late in the night.

The statue gave no signs of answering her and the music faded away leaving Mercedes’ breathing as the only sound that remained. The air grew cold around her and Mercedes heard a small sniffling that caused her throat to tighten. She turned to look at the now darkened entrance of the cathedral. A small child was watching her with her mother folded up beside the girl in prayer. Mercedes was staring at herself at ten, crying and scared, “I was following the light here.” Mercedes distinctly recalled her fears as she led her mother through the darkening capital of the kingdom as they walked to the one lit building.

Mercedes got up, though she felt strangely heavy and warm, and walked towards this younger version of herself. “You’re safe,” she promised as she took herself in her arms. The woman kneeling in prayer looked like Sabina, but was distinctly older and much more familiar. Mercedes watched as the older version of herself smiled and nodded as if blessing her with approval. Mercedes looked back down to the child in her arms, and noticed her own body was swelling with child. This was every moment of her self — youth, mother, crone — converging in one important place where she belonged, “I will make this place safe.”

As she looked at the darkened entrances she saw shadowed faces staring in. “For all of you,” whispered Mercedes. She spun around to look at the statue of the goddess, though by now it was gone and the cathedral looked much like it had the night she cast Miasma at the stained glass. It wasn’t a safe place at the moment, but it could become one again.

***

Ingrid was sitting on a boulder, elbows on her knees and hands together in a fist against her mouth, as she stared at her horse. Technically she supposed it belonged to the Margrave Gautier, but it wasn’t like she could give it back now. Not like this. Dimitri had been hungry, and so he had killed her horse.

It was as if whatever sensible restraints used to be so tightly wound around him had melted away. Dimitri was reserved, positive, and sometimes even embarrassed by own enthusiasm. Now, he was acting on impulse with total disregard for others. Ingrid was at a loss for how her kind, supportive friend had turned into someone who didn’t seem to recognize that a world existed outside his own head. It terrified her that this was a man she looked up to as the future leader of their homeland. Right now he could barely rule his own emotions.

Dimitri would leave their little secluded camp often. She could almost always smell him before she saw him. He would continually scratch at the wound Felix had given him but he wouldn’t let Ingrid get close enough to try and clean it for him. It was definitely getting infected in the week since the big fight and the breaking of their group. Ingrid was afraid he was going to lose more than his eye, and she was far from qualified to fix any of it. He needed a real healer and he needed one soon although it was not as if they could convince him to do anything. Part of her was desperate enough to throw herself at Garreg Mach and plea for help. Thing were so bad that the idea of being captured by the Emperor and left in a cell seemed better than trying to handle things out here in the open. To Ingrid the last eight days had felt like a lifetime as she adjusted to Dimitri’s new normal.

Dimitri was violent towards Dedue, and Ingrid had noticed had quite a few scars on the retainer that she didn’t remember from school. She felt a deep shame in her chest thinking about how she’d spoken to Dedue in the past. When all was said and done, it was Dedue who was here trying to help. Not Felix. Not Sylvain. Dedue was off with Dimitri now, at a distance, hopefully keeping the prince from encountering Imperial troops out on patrol. It was a Duscarian who was the only one right now preventing her from falling into her own pit of despair with Dimitri and the irony was not enjoyable. She had been mean and raw to Dedue when she was younger, when the Tragedy had first happened, and time and space hadn’t made her any kinder to him when they arrived at school. Now all her hate of him had turned inward to hate of herself for seeing only a faceless enemy rather than the person who’d been there all along. In a small way it was similar to how she felt about being born with a crest and wanting to be a knight but only being slotted as a bride in people’s eyes, and it made her sick that she had been doing the same thing to him.

Keeping busy kept her mind from wandering towards too much self loathing. Ingrid took a deep breath and got down from her boulder. She got out her hunting knife and began to properly butcher the horse. It was long slow work, but they weren’t in a position to waste this meat. Dimitri had eaten some of the liver raw, and Ingrid grew ill as she looked at the ragged hole he’d made in the animal’s side. She focused instead on the muscles and slowly clearing each usable piece from the bones.

This was such a waste. The horse wasn’t even very old, and besides they had food still. Dimitri had killed it because he had felt compelled to by whatever was whispering in his ear. He kept muttering _Glenn_ , and Ingrid wondered if this was some sort of personal punishment. However he didn’t seem cognizant enough to purposefully torture her, and that was a source of pain in and of itself.

Ingrid absently wiped her brow and left a trail of blood across her forehead. She sighed upon realizing her mistake and sat back, forlorn, to look at her progress. This was going to take a long time. Ingrid was trying to be patient. Healing Dimitri would be a long campaign and she was still processing her anger and her grief that Sylvain had left. She’d always known in her heart if it came to Felix or Dimitri, Sylvain would side with Felix. In Ingrid’s opinion, Felix had looked just fine fighting them on behalf of the Empire. He didn’t need help, he needed a hard knock in the head to get his senses right. Dimitri was the one who needed some serious help.

Annette leaving didn’t surprise Ingrid, but she could have at least done a faith spell on Dimitri’s eye before she bailed. Shamefully, part of Ingrid wanted to run too. She wanted to run and get help. Instead it was just her and Dedue trying to keep Dimitri from getting himself killed. However at some point they had to sleep and that was usually when Dimitri took his chance to run off. She and Dedue were trading sleeping shifts, but there was only so much they could do to contain the prince. They had figured the best thing to do was to just follow from a distance and intervene if necessary. So far Dimitri had been fine, it was anyone else who crossed him that was in trouble.

Her ears perked up as she heard someone approaching. Ingrid gripped her knife as she rose to get a view. They were camping in the mountains again, and prepping for a long winter spent out here. Luckily, winters were milder in the south, and the temperatures wavered right between snow and unpleasantly chilly rain. Right now the snow was melting and the ground was soggy, making the footsteps of whoever was coming loud and squishy. Dedue was trailing Dimitri up the slope wordlessly. Ingrid wondered if she ought to greet the prince, or ask how his hunting had gone. He’d probably tell her in graphic detail whether or not she said anything at all.

Dinner — horse and potatoes — didn’t inspire much of an appetite in Ingrid. She was used to feeling very hungry all the time but lately she couldn’t be bothered to eat. She feared she was going to get fatigued or weak but she could barely force herself to consume anything. Sleep wasn’t coming easily either, and she felt wired to fight at all times.

“You missed a good killing today,” said Dimitri with his good eye wide. His smile made her insides twist. Before all this Dimitri had a lovely, handsome smile, but now this replacement was just manic and unsettling.

“Someone had to watch our camp,” said Ingrid. She kept her voice as neutral as possible.

“Maybe you should come out with me tomorrow, maybe both of you should come,” suggested Dimitri. He paused to jerk his head as if listening, and murmured to his unseen ghost, “I know, I know, but if they help, we can finish this sooner.”

Against her better judgment, Ingrid indulged him, “Who are you always speaking to?”

“Glenn,” said Dimitri without a hint of insincerity.

Ingrid’s lip quivered with rage, “Glenn is dead.” She could barely help herself from saying it. “Glenn is dead and whatever you’re talking to isn’t real.”

Dimitri shot up to stand over her, and Ingrid’s stomach sank as she curled her fists out of instinct. Dedue got up and attempted to get between them as Ingrid rose up. This wasn’t Dedue’s fight, this was hers.

“I’m not here to hurt you Dimitri,” said Ingrid as she watched him, even though she wanted to kick his ass. “I’m here to help you.”

“You think it should have been me instead of Glenn. It should have been me dying in agony, full of regret and pain,” said Dimitri as they circled each other. He didn’t need a weapon with words like that. “Sometimes I think that too.”

“I don’t wish that,” snarled Ingrid as she carefully stepped. “I’m here because you’re my friend and you need help.”

“I need help killing the Emperor, anything other than that is a distraction,” said Dimitri as his left eye trained upon her.

Ingrid swallowed with ill ease. If she could push Edelgard from a cliff to fix Dimitri she would, but the fact was that Edelgard was inside the fortified walls of Garreg Mach and they were just three kids camping. Besides, Ingrid strongly suspected that killing the Emperor wasn’t going to magically fix her friend. “Come back to Fhirdiad, and rally troops to attack this place.”

Dimitri smiled and shook his head, “No, no you won’t trick me into leaving her. I can’t leave until the job is done.” With that he sprung forward and knocked into Ingrid to take her into a hold. His breath was hot and moist in her ear as he interrogated her, “How long have you been allied with the Flame Emperor?” She was clawing at his hand that held her by her long hair as his other snaked up and kept her firmly against him.

“I’m here to help you if your hallucinations would let me—” snapped Ingrid as his grip got tighter and more painful.

Dimitri’s face settled in right next to hers, though all she could see was his wounded eye in her periphery, “They are not hallucinations. They are my dead, and they demand blood.”

All of it happened in a few heartbeats. Ingrid did not wish to fight him but her years of training were screaming otherwise. His face was so close and all she could smell was the pus filling up his eye socket. Ingrid gagged as she threw her own head into his to get him off. It did not work.

Dimitri let out a bellowing laugh at her pathetic attempt as his tongue practically licked inside her ear as he spoke, “And if you are with that woman, then I must kill you too.”

“Enough,” Dedue grabbed onto Dimitri’s shoulders and wrenched the prince back. Ingrid fell forward as Dimitri pushed her down into the rocks. Her head was pounding as she watched the prince wriggling free to take off down the mountain. Dedue watched him hopelessly and then offered his hand to help Ingrid up.

She shoved him away, “I don’t want your help.” She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. She grabbed her bloodied knife instead and took it to her braid. It was stupid to keep her hair so long when anyone could grab it and render her helpless. She gritted her teeth against her inclination to cry as she sloppily cut the long blond hair away. It was the hair her parents were so proud of and the hair that supposedly made her attractive to suitors, and now it littered the ground as a painful reminder of how much things had changed. When she finished battling her feelings of helplessness, she carefully set her knife down and attempted some calming breaths.

Dedue stared at her with a patient look. “Are you injured?”

“Mostly just my pride is hurt,” Ingrid shut her eyes and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for lashing out.” She focused on coming down from her pain, though her forehead was still on fire. Frustration filled her to the brim and her only release was a few pitiful tears that escaped before she could contain them, “I know I’m harsh to you, and you don’t deserve it. I’m just, _angry_.” She opened her eyes and looked up at Dedue, “I lost people, but you did too. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to come to terms with that.”

“I don’t need your apology,” said Dedue as he sat beside her. His voice was low and even, professional and not gentle. She appreciated that. “I need you to let me be your ally.” Ally, not friend; right now Ingrid didn't feel like she deserved his friendship but she did need his help. 

Ingrid looked at the long blond braid limp on the ground and felt the wind cold upon her newly exposed neck, “I’ll try harder.” That was a promise, knight’s honor. The two of them stared out into the darkness. It would be a fool’s errand to chase after Dimitri in this state, and Ingrid could only hope that he came back to them before he encountered anything he couldn’t handle.

***

Linhardt, being driven only as it served his goals, had taken the scheduling upon himself and given Mercedes the dreaded early morning shift. She yawned as she made herself tea to go with the scones she’d baked in an attempt at some normalcy. Manuela had encouraged her to dive into her hobbies to process the massacre at the monastery; so far Mercedes had baked many things but it had brought her little joy. She could hear someone that sounded equally miserable to be awake in the hallway, so Mercedes poked her head out to greet whomever was making such pained, grumpy noises.

Hubert, _of course_. “Did you sleep in your office?”

He gave her a startled look that turned into a scowl. “I was working late.”

“Me too,” said Mercedes as she thought about her dream. She had been burning with ideas for what to do with the people from the Abyss, and was on her way to reconciling her broken faith with what she now knew she needed. She had her stolen book and her notes and a draft of a plan to work on during this shift. “Would you care to join me for tea?” She figured she could trap him and make him listen to her proposal this way.

He was still frowning, “I do not enjoy tea.”

“There’s scones to go with it,” tried Mercedes though she would bet he was more interested in bitter treats than sweets if his personality was anything to go by. “And I think you’ll want to see the book I’ve been reading.” She flashed the real cover at him and resisted the urge to smirk as his eyes followed it with extreme interest.

“Very well,” said Hubert as he stepped back into his office. He came to the infirmary armed with his own notebook and a pencil. It looked as if he had attempted to fix his hair but it was stubbornly smashed along the side of his face that had landed on a pillow last night.

The back room of the infirmary was always nice and bright in the morning, and Hubert stood out starkly against the warm cream walls and at the simple wood table Mercedes served the tea at. He almost looked a little sallow and Mercedes cocked her head as she looked him over, “Have you been taking your vulneraries?”

Hubert glowered as he took his seat, “I feel fine.”

“We didn’t give you them to make you feel good, they’re continuing to heal you so you don’t land back in the infirmary with an infection or worse,” said Mercedes as she went to the cabinet to fetch one. “You look jaundiced.”

“That is just how my face looks,” grumbled Hubert as she passed the glass globe into his hands. There was a shadow of stubble skirting across his cheeks that wasn’t doing him any favors and he still looked hallowed out from not enough solid food.

“Just take the vulnerary. Please put my mind at peace,” said Mercedes as she stared at him until he did it. She brushed his hand as she went to take the empty vessel back and he nearly dropped it in surprise. He seemed unusually embarrassed and very reluctant to look her in the face. Mercedes wondered with a mix of amusement and curiosity if he remembered his concoction confession, but thought it would be unkind to tease him about it, “How would you like your tea?”

“I prefer it to be coffee,” said Hubert as she returned the empty vulnerary bottle to be cleaned and filled with more healing potion.

Mercedes poured him tea and put a cranberry scone on his saucer, “Well I’m afraid I don’t know anything about coffee, but this is a very well loved breakfast tea.” He reached for the book and Mercedes quickly put her hand on top of it to stop him, “Ah, wait. I need to tell you about a dream I had last night.”

Hubert inhaled and finally brought his green eyes up to pierce her with his glare. He looked like the very last thing in the world he wanted to hear was her describing her dream, but that was too bad. He said nothing as Mercedes pulled the book out of his radius of reach and sipped her own delicious tea. “Anyway, I was walking through the monastery when I was guided up to the cathedral by what I think might have been the goddess. Then, I was in the cathedral praying, and I suppose I was pregnant—”

“Mercedes,” said Hubert swiftly as he cut her off. “I do not place any stock in divination from dreams. They barely make sense to us, let alone when we try to explain them to others. They are just our brains trying to make sense of a chaotic world as we sleep, nothing more.”

Mercedes smiled, “Exactly! My brain, or maybe my heart, was trying to come up with a solution to the Abyss problem, and if you would refrain from interrupting me I could actually share it with you.”

Hubert sampled his tea and looked sour — _or maybe that was just his face_ — but did not speak. Mercedes cleared her throat, “So I was in the cathedral, and as I prayed I had one hand that was normal and one marred by dark magic.” She held out her left hand, “You have the light, faith magic of the church and all it’s teachings.” She gestured with her right, “And you have dark magic and all the other things the Church has banned or otherwise deemed unworthy. The things forced into shadows, or underground.” She pressed her hands together as if to pray, “And I was thinking maybe we should be bringing these things together under one roof by inviting the Abyssians up to live on the surface and making the cathedral the center of our new community.”

Hubert had bitten off the tiniest taste of his scone as he listened, “Forgive me, but what did you being pregnant have to do with any of this?”

“Oh, there was a young me, an old me, and then me, but with child, I think it was a commentary on the timelessness of the mission of the church,” extrapolated Mercedes excitedly. “Or maybe I have a lifetime of work ahead of me.”

A dubious expression was curling his lip up at the corner. “ _Right_. Well, I don’t think reopening the church of Seiros is going to be feasible in the present climate.”

“Seiros is just a saint. It’s the goddess that’s really at the core of things,” said Mercedes.

Hubert looked at her like she was speaking another language. “So you’d like to keep the goddess, and just extract Rhea out of things?”

“You said once the Emperor isn’t outlawing religion, that she couldn’t if she tried. What I’m suggesting is preserving the core teachings. I have been _struggling_ with my faith.” It hurt her to admit this to him of all people because it felt like she was conceding some ground in an imaginary war between them. “However, what I haven’t struggled with is a desire to treat people well, even people I may disagree with. That aspect of my faith has been tested and survived even all these revelations of what Rhea is and what the church has done over the years. Those values might have been taught to me by the Church of Seiros, but I don’t need the goddess hanging over me to enforce them.” She ran her hand over the cover of the _Sapere aude Agartha_ book as she considered its contents, “I think the teachings of the church are important and shouldn’t be thrown away, but I think they need to bend and accommodate some other points of view. The world is big and there’s room for all of us.” She cleared her throat, this was the hardest and most blasphemous thing she had to confess, “Besides, if the goddess is dead, she’s not actively helping anyone and we need to help each other instead.”

Hubert was staring at her hand on the book. He let out a long sigh, “Are you sure you wish to utilize the cathedral? I have not set foot in it since the bodies were buried, but perhaps that is not the best place.”

“It has to be the cathedral,” insisted Mercedes as she remembered walking towards the church in Fhirdiad as a girl and the feelings of her dreams. “We just have get it cleaned up and then I thought perhaps we could bring the pagan alter up—”

“Excuse me?”

“I want it to be welcoming to everyone,” said Mercedes firmly. “Though, I don’t really know much about other religions, other than talking with Dedue about Duscar. I figured we could just pop down to Abyss, and ask who’s in charge to get their take on the plan.”

“I know who is in charge,” murmured Hubert as he broke off a bigger piece of scone and stared at the book. “However one doesn’t just pop in on them.” He paused and locked eyes with Mercedes and she felt a sudden surge of confidence about the way he was looking at her. He wasn’t dismissing her ideas, though they had been inspired by literal dreams, and it felt good to have someone with the power to help her actually entertaining her suggestions. “I’ll schedule an audience, keep writing that proposal. It needs to be flawless before being presented to the Emperor for approval.”

Mercedes could not help but beam that this was actually happening. She wondered who they would be going to meet down underground to discuss her burgeoning plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sapere aude_ is Latin for ‘dare to know’ and was a phrase re-popularized by Kant in the Enlightenment. To quote the sage wisdom of Wikipedia, “The phrase is the moral to a story in which a fool waits for a stream to cease flowing before attempting to cross it. In saying, "He who begins is half done. Dare to know, begin!", the Roman poet Horace suggests the value of human endeavor, of persistence in reaching a goal, and of the need for effort to overcome obstacles.”


	18. Self Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert takes a long look at himself and does not like what he sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: 
> 
> masturbation

In his dreams, their dance did not end with a meaningless kiss and a goodbye. Instead they twirled up to the Goddess Tower, a place on campus that Hubert had avoided at all costs, and so his mind filled in what it must look like. He saw vines and night blooming flowers in moonlight weaving through the crumbling stone. He saw Mercedes standing there waiting for him to say something. He didn’t warn her that she was going to hate him, because in his dreams there was no war. There was just her big blue eyes looking up at him with anticipation and lips parting with the beginnings of a secret to share. However, even in his dreams he was frozen with uncertainty of what to say to define what he was feeling because, whether he was sleeping or waking, he did not understand it.

Hubert woke to the morning bell and groaned as he pulled his pillow over his face and resisted the urge to yell at his dumb cock for being so inconveniently hard from his dream. His evil cat walked over him as if to add insult to literal injury. His back muscles ached, his front muscles ached, and his guts did not care for the food he was consuming. Manuela had done a far too thorough touch test for nerve damage in his opinion and found that some sensations were lost across his skin. She warned of atrophy, but assured him that all things considered he was very lucky to be alive.

Hubert _wanted_ to feel lucky, but mostly he was feeling cursed. Everything still hurt and he was not one to ask for help, though even if he did let his resolve crumble he had no one to ask. The last part was a partial lie; he thought of his grandmother traveling here at Edelgard’s blasted invitation. He didn’t want Agatha here because he wanted her safe in Enbarr. He felt too grown to burden his grandmother with his care, and most uncomfortably, he felt too grown to be alone like this. He could not bring himself to appear weak in front of Edelgard because she needed him to be strong. Unfortunately he did not feel close enough to anyone else to ask for help in such an intimate manner, and acknowledging that desire for someone to fill that role felt too feeble. As if summoning a demon, Mercedes smiling visage filled his mind.

He peeled the pillow off his face and stared at his ceiling, “Is this some sort of divine punishment?” It had to be. Sothis had made him fall for a woman who under no circumstances would ever choose him. Maybe the goddess was real, and she was messing with him.

General Grumple made a yowling noise to be let outside and Hubert was half tempted to join him going out of the window. He wasn’t even sure how he had come to like Mercedes so much. There was nothing compatible about them. She was white magic and stopping to help each and every sap she met; he was dark magic and the ends justifying the means. They simply did not fit together, war or not, and he had to figure out how to get his brain off this seditious line of thought. There were so many less problematic options available, and Hubert merely had to get his heart on board with his head.

It had to be the healing magic that had caused this unfortunate obsession, so why couldn’t he have a crush on Manuela or Linhardt instead? Manuela was widely appreciated for her looks and if she was willing to entertain some dates with Jeritza, why not Hubert? Even as the thought dared to enter his head he could practically smell the booze wafting off Manuela in the evenings, and besides, Jeritza was exceptionally handsome. Manuela possessed demonstrably low standards sometimes, and yet Hubert was clearly beneath them.

Linhardt wasn’t handsome, but he was pretty. He was lazily letting his hair get long and he did have a lithe hold-able looking form that turned many heads. Yet he also understood how to aggravate Hubert like no other. Linhardt almost seemed aloof out of spite and his lack of focus was like a chisel driving into Hubert’s brain when he needed the fool to get something important done. Linhardt made Hubert’s blood run hot, but not in a good way, more in a “I’ll be strangling you now” sort of way.

In contrast Mercedes was kind towards him when she clearly didn’t like him. Hubert was more accustomed to being seen at best as annoying and overbearing, and at worst as an indifferent murderer. So, to be offered tea and scones by someone who had every right to want to see him deep in the ground was deeply unsettling. He had of course noticed her in school but it was easy to write her off as merely a pretty collection of hobbies and interests that were useless to him. It was the kiss though that had truly knocked him from his comfortable position of being above crushes and desire. She had chosen that night, almost a year ago, to see him in the darkness and instead of feeling violated that he’d accidentally spied on her private dance, had invited him instead to share in it. The dance, the kiss, these were intimate gestures freely given in way Hubert was painfully unaccustomed to.

He had felt the first thrill of something he didn’t understand when she wanted to be partners in class. That she couldn’t do dark magic had actually been a very nice attribute in his mind. He’d experienced his first brush with jealousy seeing her out with Sylvain, and had felt a weird joy when she said they weren’t dating. Even then Hubert knew it was hopeless because he was leaving that day for Enbarr to set a war in motion. Then her brother had stubbornly insisted on capturing her for her safety and Hubert, fool that he was, had agreed to keep her close to the Strike Force. He should have just sent her to Jeritza to deal with, even though Jeritza was adamant he was too dangerous to be around. So Hubert had kept her close and out of battle; he should have kept his distance.

Her face did not conjure memories of the worst day of Hubert’s life unlike all the other children of the Insurrection's participants. It did not hurt that Mercedes’ magic on him felt like her accursed kiss had, tender and caring. That warmth was something that he, so cool and detached, lacked in much quantity. In the chill of Red Wolf Moon he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up around himself like a blanket. She was forbidden and out of reach, and he suspected that only made him want her more.

Unfortunately thinking about Mercedes so much was making his already aroused penis even more eager for his attention. Hubert was no stranger to jerking off to get his day going, but he was unaccustomed to thinking about someone he actually knew while doing it. He wasn’t even usually in his own fantasies. He strongly preferred to just think about people he didn’t know getting themselves off, a muscular soldier from the sauna, an attractive merchant who liked tight pants, literally any stranger that caught his attention for more than a moment. However Mercedes was in his head and refusing to leave, so Hubert sat on his bed and got to work so he could get to work. He imagined her in his lap with that cascading blond hair hanging down loose like privacy curtain for the two of them to just look at each other as their foreheads pressed together.

Yet how could she possibly like what she would see in such an arrangement? Hubert let out a frustrated sigh, this was exactly why he was absent in his own imaginings. “Come on,” he whispered to his uncooperative cock, “Just get it over with.” He had things to do today, he didn’t have time to waste on this. Hubert let himself slip into fantasy without trying to obsessively analyze all the ways in which it would fall apart in reality. Besides his injured side was burning and the sooner he released the better.

He wouldn’t pretend to guess what she must look like beneath all the many layers she liked to cover up in, so he focused on how she looked in that fluffy blue sweater she liked to wear. _Just the sweater though_ , requested his cock as he worked it. He imagined how soft Mercedes must feel to hold. What would it be like to have her weight resting against him? How much warmth would rise up as their exposed skin slipped and slid against the other? He wanted to know what her lips would feel like brushing along his ear, and the sensation of her fingers weaving through his hair. He wanted to hear what she would say to him, though he had no idea what to expect to come out of her mouth if she actually liked him. If she _loved_ him.

He shivered and exhaled sharply as he finished out that hopeless little fantasy. He knew how he looked, and his cold manner inspired dark rumors about what sort of things he must be interested in sexually — torture, strangulation, blood and gore mixed up in cum and sweat — but the mundane truth of the matter was that he was very simple and direct in his desires. He wanted someone who actually wanted him back, and the cruel fact was that a prisoner of war here against her will could not make a choice like that. What had been feeling good seconds earlier now just felt as disgusting as conscripting Mercedes into his bed.

Hubert laid back disgruntled with himself, not wanting to clean up, and not wanting to face his responsibilities. Not wanting to stop thinking about her. This was bad. Hubert wondered if he ought to tell Edelgard he was compromised. Maybe she would just order him executed. That would surely solve this problem. Unfortunately there was too much work to do, there was no time for dying of embarrassment. He had to figure out how to dispel this irrational crush because he could plainly see that it was causing real problems in his ability to do his work.

When Mercedes danced her way into his brain she lingered and made him want to act in a way she might find pleasing. He feared this strange inclination was unintentionally challenging his capacity to objectively assess her suggestions. Hubert prided himself on his ability to judge situations and people free of emotion, but with Mercedes he was suddenly entertaining a whole plan to save the Abyss. What did he care for a bunch of rejects forced underground? The problem was he _did_ care, despite the fact that saving a weird town of murderers, orphans, and dark mages did not carry much utility for the war effort. When he assessed himself objectively, he did not like his conclusion: he helped because he saw himself in those people, and hoped that someday if it came to it, someone would choose to save him too. Watching Mercedes care so deeply for these strangers encouraged the little voice inside him whispering that maybe she could care about him too.

Certainly dealing with the Abyss in a humane manner was morally right, but he was unsure how much of what he was agreeing to was simply motivated by some shallow desire to endear himself to Mercedes. The fact that he didn’t have a clear answer to this was deeply troubling. The greater good had to outweigh whatever local good Mercedes was attempting, and yet Hubert was having trouble remembering his priorities when she started making suggestions.

Now it made him wonder if there were other holes in his perspective. Did anyone else slip through like Mercedes and get him to do things without that neutrally grounded critique? The only person he now faced with uncertainty was Edelgard, and that was a scary consideration. He could easily justify course-correction on some of her orders, but he had an extreme aversion to actually discussing these decisions with her. He never viewed that as a problem before, but now upon this disquieting self-reflection he wanted to understand why he couldn’t just talk about these things with his best friend.

He lived in fear that she was going to someday find out something he’d done behind her back, that he’d crossed too far over some line in pursuit of her vision, and that she’d abandon him for doing his job too well. He loved Edelgard, he would die for her, but perhaps lying to her face was a riskier move than he’d previously appreciated. He’d always felt being the best possible vassal was the same as being a good friend, but now that he was coming to befriend others he was seeing that might not be the case.

All he wanted was to go back to having no friendly _or_ romantic inclinations at all. Hubert worried he couldn’t be a good friend and vassal to Edelgard, so he would let other be good friends to her, and he would do his duty. That stung, but that was the best way to serve her. He especially did not need a lover, and he wanted to stop thinking about Mercedes as anything more than a healer that he to make sure didn’t double cross them or try to escape. It was simply unacceptable to harbor these feelings for a Faerghean during war time, and so he would just have to find a way to stop desiring her.

With that goal in mind he got up to clean himself off and get on with his day. As he dressed, Hubert picked up his still unlaundered jacket and passed his fingers through the two bloody slits where Dimitri’s lance had pierced. Hubert’s blood ran cold as he touched the ragged stiff hole, and he quickly draped the jacket over his desk chair. That could be mended later. Perhaps he could even pay Bernadetta to fix it for him, if he didn’t send her off screaming the process.

He pulled on the sweater his grandmother had sent. It fit perfectly on his big Vestra shoulders, but then billowed everywhere else. Maybe Agatha had forgotten that Hubert took after her thin frame, and that Robert always jested that Hubert was a bit of a runt compared to the rest of the family. It was the teasing way one talked to a little brother, not their son, and Robert’s words had always left Hubert feeling like he didn’t deserve to be part of the family. If anyone didn’t deserve it, it was surely Robert. Now he was dead and couldn’t even answer for his actions and how they’d ruined everything. Arundel hadn’t killed Robert because he was a traitor, or because he was a careless father; Arundel killed him to remind Hubert who was in charge.

He sighed as he adjusted the too large sweater and attempted to tuck it into his pants. He looked in the mirror and saw an overgrown school boy standing before him. All he was missing was a shiny Head Boy badge, but those honors had gone to Ferdinand in secondary school. Edelgard had been a natural fit for Head Girl, while Hubert had been constantly written up for his unruly hair and overheard insults. Now he’d been keeping his hair short since the first ill-done cut, and it was finally looking like a passable style, albeit an unusual one for his station. He was rejecting the nobility so he might as well reject their hair styles as well. He stared at his reflection and wondered what Mercedes thought when she saw him. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that she better see someone whose orders she had to follow and nothing more.

He took breakfast with Edelgard, who fortunately looked like she had been sleeping just a bit better since his release from the infirmary a few days before. However, this quickly meant eating with Petra, Dorothea, and Manuela as well. Hubert pushed his oatmeal with his spoon as the ex-opera stars dominated the conversation. At least Edelgard seemed at ease, and that was what was important to him even if the conversation was incredibly dull to his ears.

“Are you feeling alright? You’re barely touching your food,” said Manuela as she watched him.

The fact was that eating, or digesting rather, still hurt and so he wasn’t very interested in it. Hubert forced a spoonful to appease her, “I was letting it cool down.” The oatmeal was now quite cold and unpleasant. Hubert wasn’t big on food, but this was especially awful. Manuela looked satisfied after he’d choked a few more bites down, and returned to sharing some story.

Hubert let his attention wander about the room. Mercedes was gathering her oatmeal and loading it up with honey and fruit. Hubert found himself staring and realized he probably should not be so obvious. At that moment, Hanneman then sat down next to Manuela and mercifully blocked Hubert’s view. “Hubert, it’s wonderful to see you up and about,” said Hanneman cheerfully.

“Thank you, it is good to be free of the infirmary and back to work,” said Hubert with perhaps too much forced pleasantness.

“Just make sure not to tax yourself,” warned Hanneman, a notorious over-worker himself. “It’s tempting to run from trauma and into something to distract ourselves—”

“I understand,” said Hubert quickly as he noticed Edelgard paying attention. He didn’t want to play things down and seem flippant, but he also did not wish to linger on discussions of his mortality. He had no appetite and he very much did not like all these eyes upon him, “If you’ll excuse me I must get to my duties.”

Today’s work would be spent inside. Hubert had kept with Seteth’s tradition of office hours where his door (or tent) was open for two hours a week and anyone could come to him with their concerns about anything. Sometimes this was extremely productive, like when people came to report odd dealing in the marketplace, or when the greenhouse manager came to request extra help, or when the head chef had suggestions for how to optimize the dining operations to minimize waste. More often than not though Hubert was just a captive audience for whatever Black Eagle decided to bother him that week.

The weather was rain flirting with the possibility of snow, and Caspar was in Hubert’s office just sitting for no reason at all, “Is there a spell to stop rain?”

“No,” said Hubert as he continued his mountain of paperwork and tried to ignore Caspar. He was still trying to get an assessment on everything that had happened while he was out of commission. Apparently Ferdinand had taken his new leadership role and ran with it; it would be impressive if it wasn’t so annoying.

“What about lightning? Like is there an amulet I could use—”

“No,” repeated Hubert as he focused on a report about the impact of the massacre on their supplies. If Mercedes was serious about this Abyss plan he had to make sure there were actually enough resources to pull it off.

“Damn,” muttered Caspar as he looked unfavorably at the wet windows. He sighed often and stared at Hubert’s office ceiling.

“Caspar, why are you here?” asked Hubert finally after the fourth or fifth sigh.

“Oh, I’m keeping you company!” said Caspar with a bright and honest smile. “’Cause we’re buds.”

 _Buds_. Right. Hubert tapped his pen on his desk. Caspar was extremely distracting; he managed to make a ton of noise without even running his mouth. “Don’t you usually, um, spend your free time with Linhardt?”

“Oh yeah, Lin’s my best friend! No offense Hubert, it’s uh, not a contest or anything I don’t want to make you feel bad—”

Hubert stared at Caspar wondering why on earth he thought Hubert would think he was Caspar’s best friend. “It’s fine, obviously Emperor Edelgard is my best friend.”

“Oh, it’s not me?” said Caspar in an almost disappointed tone. “I just figured since like, I almost got you killed but then saved you, that’s a pretty important bond.”

“I hope you took it as an important lesson in being silent when enemy combatants are around,” said Hubert with a well placed glare.

Caspar shrank slightly in his seat, “Uh, right, well, if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you just let me know.”

Hubert set his pen into its holder and relaxed back in his chair. No work was going to get done as long as Caspar was here, but maybe he could give Hubert advice on this Mercedes problem. “May I ask you a personal question? Have you ever held feeling for someone who does not return them?”

Caspar’s mouth was hanging open, “Hubert, _you_ like someone?”

“Hypothetically, if I did, which I do not, what does one do about such a situation?” He was truly desperate if he was asking Caspar for advice.

Caspar leaned forward and rested his elbows on Hubert’s desk as his hands supported his chin. “Well, yeah, I had a crush on a girl, and she didn’t like me back.”

“Someone I know?”

Caspar gave a look at the door and the cupped his hands over his mouth to whisper, or at least Caspar’s version of a whisper, “Dorothea.” Hubert tried not to laugh as Caspar gave him a hopeless look, “I could listen to her talk all day about literally anything. She’s funny, she’s smart, she’s also like, the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen. But, I know she’s not into me.” He drummed his knuckles upon the desk and straightened up. Caspar was always talking with his hands and now they were waving around dramatically as he continued, “I think I’m too short for her, she sees me as a kid brother or something, and it sucks.” He gave another look at the door, “I thought maybe I’d won her over ‘cause she invited me to her room. And I was thinking, Caspar, you’re finally a man, you’re going to go do room things, but no, she just wanted me to lift her furniture and help her clean!”

“Room things?” asked Hubert in confusion.

“Yeah, room things, like, whatever people do together in a room when they’re like, _Caspar go away we’re busy_ —” His impression sounded vaguely like Linhardt.

Hubert stared, “Do you mean sex?” Now against his better judgment he wanted to know who the hell Linhardt was sleeping with. Surely Linhardt was too lazy to actively pursue anyone. Did they just come to him?

Caspar looked confused and then nodded tentatively, “Yeah. Sex. Uh, obviously.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, lesson learned. So a couple months later, when Hilda Goneril was like, Hey Caspie come up to my dorm I have something for you to do, I was like, no way Hilda. She’s so lazy, of course she was just trying to get help with cleaning. Trick me once shame on you, trick me twice, shame on me,” his voice trailed off. “She called me oblivious when I wouldn’t come up.”

Hubert narrowed his gaze and agreed with Hilda that Caspar was incredibly oblivious. Hubert tried to focus on the question at hand, “So, when Dorothea rejected you, how did you get yourself to stop liking her?”

“I eventually found someone new to like,” shrugged Caspar. “Sure, it was hard at first, but I’m happier spending time with someone who maybe likes me back and in no way wants me to clean their room.”

“Who is it?”

“Hubert!” Caspar turned bright red. “You can’t just ask someone who they like! That’s my private business. I’m not asking you who your crush is!”

“I don’t have a crush on anyone,” insisted Hubert. Crush, what a silly stupid word. It evoked torture, which in his case, it was.

“We may not be best friends, but I can tell when you’re lying,” declared Caspar. Hubert very much doubted that.

Hubert took a deep and re-centering breath, “Fine, let us suppose you are correct in assuming I could have feelings for someone. However, what if liking someone is very unusual for me, and I have trouble feeling that way about anyone else? How do I just, turn it back off?” He thought of the stupid _Words of Love_ book he’d grabbed in Abyss and wished he found a guide to suppressing fondness instead. Hubert was capable of compartmentalizing and repressing a lot of feelings but this damned one wouldn’t stay down.

Caspar looked contemplative as he scratched his chin, “I don’t think it works like that.” He slapped his hand on the desk, “So we’re just going to have to solve your problem some other way.” Caspar got up, saluted, and then left. Hubert was confused by Caspar’s declaration, but was optimistic that now he actually had some quiet time to get work done.

Caspar had merely left for reinforcements. Manuela was hardly what Hubert would call a love expert, but she did have a lot of ex-boyfriends so perhaps Caspar was on to something. She was sizing Hubert up with one hand on her hip, “ _You_ have love problems?”

“Love is a strong word,” said Hubert as he looked at the stacks of paperwork begging for completion. “It’s more of a strictly one sided like.”

Manuela paused to give Hubert another once over, “Having seen you naked—”

“Excuse me?” Hubert felt his chest tense up at the thought.

“You think we didn’t clean you up after you were injured?” Manuela looked put off, but Hubert just felt violated.

The possibility of Mercedes having seen him naked while he was in the infirmary hadn’t really dawned on him until this moment. Clearly he’d been changed out of his uniform and into pajamas but he hadn’t thought too hard about how that had come to pass. “Who is _we_ exactly?”

“All of us, you’re big, I wasn’t going to try to turn you over by myself,” complained Manuela. Her tone softened, “Anyway, don’t be embarrassed, everyone shits themselves when they get that many concoctions at once.”

Hubert massaged his face and took this as divine confirmation that Sothis was definitely punishing him. Caspar was wincing with second hand embarrassment, “I thought Edelgard ordered us not to talk about that ever again.” Manuela just rolled her eyes in response.

Hubert took great pains to look intimidating, but apparently now half the Strike Force had probably seen him on the brink of death and emptying out his bowels. He barely heard Manuela continuing to speak over his internal mental chatter, “Having seen what you’re working with it’s not a total lost cause.”

Hubert was too consumed by the new knowledge that Mercedes had probably glimpsed parts of him he’d have preferred no one to ever see to respond. Caspar intervened, “So this person doesn’t like you back?”

“They have every reason to despise me,” said Hubert. There was no need to sugarcoat it; Mercedes’ kindness was her being professional and watching out for herself. He thought of the big scar on the back of his head and knew given the opportunity she wasn’t _that_ nice. She had killed people while on school missions just like the rest of them. “We’ve had some confrontations.”

Caspar had spun a chair around and was draping his arms over the back as he listened, “Why do they hate you so much? I mean other than the normal reasons.”

“The normal reasons?” Hubert asked in confusion.

“Oh like you lecture all the time, you think you always know best, your scary laugh, the way you frown, when you accidentally insult someone mid compliment—”

“Bold of you to assume it’s an accident,” muttered Hubert under his breath.

“Anyway, all I’m trying to figure out is if this like normal dislike, or a passionate hate? How much of a hill are we climbin’ here?”

Hubert folded his arms. Did Mercedes hate people? Maybe she reserved it all for extra bad people like himself, “I believe this person harbors ill feelings about the war. If it is between love and hate, they are much closer to hate.”

Caspar had a look of realization dawn across his face but mercifully kept his mouth shut. Manuela gave Hubert a knowing look, “Well, the easiest way to get over someone fast is to just have ‘em stab you right in the ribs. I was pretty into Jeritza right up until that moment.”

“Thank you for the great advice,” said Hubert dryly. He checked his watch, “My office hours have now concluded, please, get out.” He practically chased them away to get back to some peace and quiet.

He had thought this would be the end of it. He was wrong. Caspar ambushed Hubert on his way to check in Edelgard. Caspar started pulling Hubert towards the dining hall, “Hey I figured out who you like from what you said, and I arranged a tea date for you. Just let out all your feelings!”

“Excuse me?” asked Hubert in a panic as he tried to resist the grappler’s firm grip. “I don’t want to do that.” He attempted to escape only to be lifted, full bodied, by the stout grappler.

“Hubert, you can’t deny the chemistry between you two, it’s time to just confess,” insisted Caspar as he carried Hubert like the mage was nothing. Maybe Manuela was right and Hubert did need to eat more.

Hubert was profusely sweating at the idea of having to sit through an incredibly awkward tea with Mercedes when they reached their destination. The person waiting was thankfully Ferdinand. “Is this some sort of joke Caspar?” asked Ferdinand as he surveyed Hubert with maximal dislike.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” said Caspar enthusiastically as he pushed Hubert into a waiting chair.

Ferdinand gave Hubert a look of disappointment. “When Caspar said I had a secret admirer, I was really hoping for, well, anyone else.”

Hubert was still coming down from his panic that Caspar had actually figured things out. He cleared his throat, “I think this is more of a misunderstanding than anything else.”

Ferdinand sighed and poured himself some tea, “Dare I ask if you would like any?”

Hubert nodded and figured he could get through this. “Please,” said Hubert as he adjusted to get comfortable in his seat. He was learning to tolerate tea for the social utility of it, even if it just tasted like hot leaf water to his lips. Hubert had discovered that the less one fought over trivial matters of taste, the less people people pushed back in an attempt to sway him to their preference.

“A civil tea time between the two of us, will wonders never cease?” mused Ferdinand as he carefully prepared the tea. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

Hubert had no preferences, “However you believe it is best enjoyed is how I will take it.”

Ferdinand said nothing but looked pleased as he began to work the cup to a satisfactory balance of sweetness and fruity tartness. Ferdinand was watching Hubert closely as he took his first sip, “What do you think?”

Hubert thought it was absolutely awful. Hot, watery, and far too sugary. He swallowed, “I am sure this is how it is supposed to taste, I just fail to have the palate to enjoy it.”

“Perhaps someday you will come to appreciate it,” suggested Ferdinand as he sat back enjoying his own cup.

Perhaps, but perhaps not. Hubert now felt the weight of responsibility to carry on the conversation, “I have been reading over everything you were up to in my absence.”

“And?” Ferdinand’s amber eyes had narrowed in on Hubert as if waiting for the criticism to drop.

“And I believe you have handled things well,” said Hubert. “Maybe it is time we begin formally dividing up some of these responsibilities.”

“You would cede power to me?” Ferdinand seemed honestly shocked.

Hubert slowly moved his teacup and watched the liquid shifting side to side, “I spent a year doing everything in secret. I can handle the work alone, but, I think there’s a wisdom in allowing us to each focus on specialized tasks. You are good at talking, tea time and personal matters.”

Ferdinand frowned, “I am also good with a lance—”

“If you would let me finish,” hissed Hubert as he stared the other man down. Ferdinand’s lips pursed as Hubert continued, “You do well handling the diplomatic aspect of things. If you are still serious about being a statesman you should begin that work now. I am more adept with strategy and logistics, and the less people I must interact with the better.”

“Well I do not disagree with your last point,” said Ferdinand.

It took Hubert great restraint not to roll his eyes. “There are other responsibilities that we could be distributing amongst the Strike Force.”

“Must we call it the Strike Force?” started Ferdinand.

“I would advise against suggesting that we change it, Edelgard is quite fond of the name,” warned Hubert. “But on that point, you told me once you seek to better her majesty by challenging her with your guidance. Recent events have placed an uncomfortable awareness in me of individuals I fail to be objective with.” Recognizing his failures around Mercedes had highlighted his similar treatment of Edelgard. The motivations were different, but the route of it was the same.

“I thought that was your whole routine, that you think I am, how did you phrase it again? A complete degenerate? Yet you can see my worth?” said Ferdinand with a mild annoyance carrying in his words.

Hubert winced because he probably had called Ferdinand a degenerate to his face. He really truly had to work on keeping his insults to himself. They weren’t helping him at all, in fact, they were likely holding him back and therefore by extension they damaged Edelgard. “She needs people like you around her, good people. Especially if something happens to me, I would feel much better knowing she has your support. She cannot be left to bear the weight of this war alone, do you understand?”

“Hubert, you survived your wounds, you are in no danger—”

“Each battle is a chance we do not return,” said Hubert bluntly. “I have deliberately positioned Dorothea and Petra close to Edelgard, and I would like you to get closer too. The three of you represent the future of the Empire, the common people, our foreign allies, and the changing nobility. With you all surrounding her I can conduct my business away from her, without risk of tarnishing her image.”

“I do not wish to replace you,” said Ferdinand firmly. “And perhaps hers is not the only image you should be concerned with.”

The worst insults were always those with a seed of truth embedded in them, but Hubert knew the costs he would bear when he committed himself to the Emperor. “There are things I must deal with now that the Edelgard no longer wears the mask of the Flame Emperor,” said Hubert. “She is the public face of this war, and she cannot be allowed to be mixed up in such business.”

Ferdinand was quiet and contemplative at the mention of the Flame Emperor. It was the demonic beast in every room. The Strike Force barely acknowledged that their adversary for the whole school year was actually their house leader, though it surely weighed on them all and Ferdinand was no exception, “Did you know what was going to happen in Remire? Or the fate of Jeralt?”

“No,” said Hubert quietly. “There are other actors in this war, pulling strings, and pushing agendas that do not align with the Emperor’s vision.” Hubert looked around the desolate dining hall. He assumed Arundel had ears everywhere, but perhaps there was value in letting Ferdinand into the tightly guarded inner circle. Ferdinand, for all his reservations and complaints, was putting in a good faith effort for Adrestia. “Edelgard’s position is precarious. She is just a tool to Lord Arundel, a battering ram to be thrown against the walls of the church until she breaks.”

“I do not understand how Arundel has come into such power. He was not even regent until Edelgard was made crown princess,” mused Ferdinand.

As far Hubert could put together, between Edelgard’s fragmented memories and independent investigation, that the actual Volkhard Arundel had been overtaken by something else entirely while in Faerghus. This suggested to Hubert that whatever Arundel was, it was bigger than Adrestia, and likely much older. As Hubert sorted through the strange and confusing documents brought up from the Abyss, he was beginning to wonder just how far back this all stretched and if it was in fact all interconnected.

“Beware Lord Arundel, he is more than he appears on the surface,” said Hubert softly before setting down his barely sipped tea. He looked Ferdinand in the eye in an attempt to convey the seriousness of what he was about to share. “His ambitions extend far beyond Adrestia, though I do not have a clear picture of his end goal. He desires crest stones, crested blood, and who knows what else.” Hubert paused, this bit was the most unbelievable, “I am not entirely sure if he is even human any more.”

Ferdinand looked perplexed, “Not human? Will he be transforming like Rhea?”

“I have no idea,” admitted Hubert. “Having spent time around him, I can tell you he his eyes see in the dark, and that when he kills with dark magic, there is no effect on his appearance. That could mean that he has a secret crest or some glamour about him, or he has discovered a means of shielding himself from the goddess’ punishment.”

“You are speaking of the nasty business with your hands after battle,” supplied Ferdinand. “Who have you seen him kill?”

“My father,” said Hubert.

There was silence between them until finally Ferdinand exhaled loudly, “I apologize for having judged you so harshly for the death of your father.”

Hubert shrugged because there was nothing to do about it. Robert was dead, and if there was a way to revive him Hubert would not be tempted to try it. “If you are willing to stand by Edelgard’s side, defend and protect her, and see this war through, then I would like you to step up to take my place.” It was a far from easy ask because he did not wish to stray from Edelgard, but the things he needed to do to ensure her victory over not just the Church, but against her present masters, required knowledge that was presently beyond his reach. “With you at her side, I can dive into the darkness and start pushing back against it more aggressively. To do that, I must understand them better, and the only way is to embed myself among them.”

Ferdinand was silent for a few moments before toasting Hubert with his teacup, “For Emperor and Adrestia. I will do my noble duty. Edelgard will doubtlessly hate some of my suggestions, but I will still be insistent. If we must fight a war, at least we can do it as justly as possible, especially now that the mask is off. I think often of the day of Jeralt’s death, and our classmates turned into beasts. That sort of madness cannot be employed ever again.”

“Good, make it so,” said Hubert as he returned the toasting gesture.

“I trust you know what you are doing, but do not forget to make sure you have a strong tether on yourself while you explore these dark spaces. It would be a great pity to finally get on good terms with you, only to see you slip away,” said Ferdinand before taking a solemn sip of tea.

Hubert contemplated Ferdinand’s words long after the tea time was through. Edelgard _was_ his tether, but one that could snap, or worse, be deliberately cut. She was his motivation as much as revenge and justice, but if things came down to destroying Arundel at the cost of himself, Hubert would do it. However for the first time, he wondered how Edelgard, as his friend and not his emperor, would feel about a sacrifice like that. He pondered if it would end up hurting her more than if he just worked by her side instead, and what that meant for what he was supposed to do to best help her. 


	19. Three Lionesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid and Dedue keep calm and carry on, camping with Sylvain is driving Annie crazy (and not in a good way), and Mercedes encounters a familiar face.

The rain was light and misting, and completely unpleasant. It was a chilly wetness that blew into the little cave and clung to Ingrid’s face as if she needed a reminder it was winter. Dimitri was patiently collecting long thick tree branches and methodically whittling them into points with the broken end of his rusty lance. The spearhead had finally given up but Dimitri was handling it like a knife now that he no longer had the dagger Felix had run off with. He still had his sword, but thankfully no recent reasons to use it.

Dimitri wasn’t crafting weapons, at least Ingrid sincerely hoped not. If anyone could swing a big branch like that around it would be him, but Ingrid didn’t want to see the kind of wounds such a primitive weapon might deliver. She braced herself to not like the response but she could not help but ask, “Dimitri, what exactly are you doing?”

Dimitri looked up in surprise that she had interrupted him. His eye was so much worse and it was hard to look at; Dimitri wouldn’t let Ingrid or Dedue close enough to check the wound, and the infection seemed to be slowing him down. He stared at her in silence for a few beats and then got back to his work as if it were obvious, “I’m making fortifications for our camp, to keep us safe.”

That was surprisingly useful. “Oh, alright then, do you need help?”

Dimitri just shook his head and kept on whittling. She watched him for a while and saw how his concentration refused to waver. Eventually he went out into the rain and started setting the pikes into the ground. For him, this was a task that clearly could not wait until the rains stopped.

Dedue was preparing a warm meal within their little shelter. Ingrid took her favorite stone seat near him and sighed, “I suppose if he’s fortifying the camp, then he’s not planning on leaving.” She had made no headway towards Fhirdiad in the last two weeks and she was finally beginning to accept that they might be out here all winter long. They’d have to figure out food, and probably something more camouflaged than the spikes Dimitri was working on. From their vantage point they could sometimes spy Imperial patrols and it was only a matter of time before they were spied back.

“He is here for the long haul,” said Dedue as he did a quick taste test. He made a face and spared just a pinch more of his precious seasoning for the dish. “You’ve been with him for a fortnight, I’ve been with him for months. Trust me, he will not return to Fhirdiad any time soon.”

“I don’t know how you did it on your own,” whispered Ingrid.

“He remembers who I am, and it helps that I am bigger,” admitted Dedue. “He knows he can trust me because I was there.”

There, at the Tragedy. Ingrid bristled just a little. “Yes, but, I knew Dimitri for years before that—”

“True, but you weren’t _there_ ,” repeated Dedue. “He doesn’t know who to trust right now. He truly believes Edelgard killed his parents. It is not a huge leap to think that others he thought he trusted were involved too.”

Ingrid’s gut twisted at the very idea of Dimitri associating her with those responsible for the Tragedy. Dedue stretched and set his spoon on its holder, “I’m learning to sense his patterns. Right now he’s motivated, but quiet. He’s winding down and do not be surprised if he slips into silence for a spell. Then he’ll start to ramp up and want to go back and engage more patrols. We had the misfortune of encountering Felix when Dimitri was hitting the peaks of his mania.”

“Does it ever stop?” asked Ingrid even though she suspected she knew the answer.

“Stop? No, this isn’t something that stops,” said Dedue as he watched the prince. Dedue’s voice dipped low like he was giving confession up to the goddess, “He lived this every moment for the last four years, he was just more adept at controlling it. Everything happening at school started to chip away at him. Edelgard being revealed as the Flame Emperor finally broke his restraint away.”

Ingrid knew that the facade had broken once before when Felix squired for Dimitri in 1178. Felix never trusted Dimitri again, and Ingrid shamefully suspected that if Dimitri had acted then like he was acting now, she might have had trouble too. Ingrid was determined not to give up like Felix. However knowing that this was never truly going away did make her feel completely powerless to change anything. “How are you always so calm about all of this?” asked Ingrid. She wasn’t trying to be combative but she was truly gobsmacked by how unflappable Dedue managed to be at all hours.

“I find being calm more pleasant than the alternatives,” said Dedue as he sat back and folded his arms.

“But you never get angry—”

Dedue frowned, “Of course I get angry.”

“Really, when?” Ingrid was confident she’d never seen him mad. He had every right to be furious at her all the time, and part of her wished he would just yell at her instead of killing her with kindness.

“Ingrid, what do you think people would do if they were presented with a large, angry man from Duscar?” asked Dedue with his persistent even keel. “It is safer for me to appear calm rather than to show my emotions, lest someone decide I need to be put down like the rest of my people.”

All Ingrid could manage in response was a soft, “Oh.” Suddenly his manner made terrible sense in such a context. Knights around Fhirdiad and Garreg Mach had wanted to fight him and put him in his place when he was placid, she could only imagine what they would do if they saw him enraged.

Dedue looked out to where the prince was working, “Anyway, there’s no point at being angry towards Dimitri.”

“I’m not angry at him, I’m angry for him,” grumbled Ingrid, even though she knew it was a half truth.

“You met Dimitri when things were good, you became friends with him during the happiest time of his life,” said Dedue. He sighed and returned his gaze to Ingrid, “I met his highness at the lowest time of his life. We became friends when both of us were stuck inside darkness. We lifted each other out once, and I have faith we can do it again.”

“That was different though,” said Ingrid sadly. 1176 was burned into her mind; she still lived in court then with the Fraldarius family as they prepared her to be a proper duchess. Ingrid remembered being held back by Sylvain as the procession of bodies came through the city gates. She had been trying to rush them to see for herself. She was caught, Felix was not, and he caused a scene until Rodrigue carried him off.

The survivors, brought up the rear of the morbid march, although by then Ingrid was struggling to see through her tears. She saw Dimitri beside Felix’s mother, Enora, with her face in bandages, and a stranger, someone from Duscar. The three of them looked like ghosts. The dead were taken straight to the church for burial preparation, and a great awful funeral occurred so everyone could be sure King Lambert was truly gone. Dimitri’s step mother, Patricia, was never recovered.

In the confusing days and weeks that followed, Ingrid felt betrayed by Dedue’s presence, though it was not her place to question a prince, especially not in the context of a massacre. So she buried down her own grief and fell back on her training. There was no Glenn anymore but that did not mean she could not behave like a future duchess. It meant reining in her opinions and serving as a moral beacon, a gentle ear, and a calming force. It meant keeping the family, in this case her best friends, together in harmony through tragedy. That was what femininity meant in Faerghus.

She had done everything perfectly, and she was thanked by being sent home to her family and the uncertainty of being a minor noble with a valuable crest. Her house was in danger of folding and being absorbed by stronger neighbors, and there was no way she could find another Faerghus Duke to marry. That was when the chain of suitors had begun to slide by her, each as unmemorable as the next, tightening around her and weighing her down. She missed her friends and the memories of happier times. Inside her was the chaotic pull of nostalgia and her present grim reality out here in the mountains beyond Garreg Mach. Dedue, with his bond with the prince, made her feel like her friendship with Dimitri, and by extension Sylvain and Felix, meant nothing. Felix and Sylvain’s choices to turn tail seemed to confirm that their friendships were not as strong as she thought. Ingrid doubled down, the four of them _were_ friends, and it was important to keep trying to hold them together. However this time she wouldn’t do it like a would be duchess, she’d do it like a goddess damned knight, “It wasn’t just you helping him then. He had all of his friends, he had Rodrigue and Rufus. He had lots of support. He needs to go back to Fhirdiad. You can’t do this alone.”

“True,” said Dedue carefully. “I do not have all their help, but I have yours. You just need to give him time. It was nice of you to offer to help with the spikes, keep asking to help, and eventually he might let you. But if you stop asking, then he really will be in trouble.”

Ingrid watched as Dimitri continued to check the pikes and she supposed in his albeit misguided way he was trying to make the three of them safe. She was learning, or at least trying to, by following Dedue’s lead. Dedue was patient and treated Dimitri’s ghosts like they were real. Ingrid wasn’t sure she could bring herself to do that with Glenn, so she avoided asking any questions about them and what they wanted. There were little things, little triggers, that she was discovering could be obscured to keep things cool. No talk of Garreg Mach, no mention of a few particular “E” words, no Sylvain or Felix. Felix was an especially sour point between him defecting to serve Edelgard and slicing Dimitri’s eye. She hoped he wasn’t out on any more patrols because Dimitri wasn’t the only one pissed off with Felix. Ingrid wouldn’t kill him, but she did have a fist with his name on it.

Ingrid focused on solving the most pressing need: Dimitri’s eye. The infection wasn’t clearing up on its own and Dimitri was clearly in pain. Ingrid had used the last of her vulnerary supply on him, and was now convinced he needed serious medical attention for it. Her conundrum was how to get him the help he needed without getting anyone captured, hurt or worse in the process. That was the problem she worked on solving because while she knew it wouldn’t fix everything, it was her little chance to help.

***

Annie remembered baths. Warm baths with lots of soap and bubbles. She remembered shaving her legs and her hair not sticking out in every direction. She remembered what it was like not to smell Sylvain when she got within a five foot radius of him. She hadn’t realized how much she could miss Ingrid until she spent a fortnight alone with Sylvain and no one around to keep him in line. He’d taken to treating Annie like a little sister, and it was possibly the most annoying thing that had ever happened to her.

They’d cleared the Oghma Mountains and were dancing between the Galatea and Daphnel territories. After much debate they decided going to the Galatea’s without Ingrid might not go over so well, so now they were heading into the Alliance. Annie was counting down the days until she could talk to some other people and take a nice hot private soak.

To pass the down time while they let the horses rest, Annie focused on her black magic attacks. For whatever reason, Sagittae, and advanced wind spell, was eluding her. She tried to imagine Hubert or Caspar when she cast it at a tree, but she was doing something wrong. The spell kept fizzling and fading instead of striking a fatal blow. She reread the formula again and again but couldn’t figure out the problem.

A familiar odor flooded her nose as Sylvain peered over her shoulder at her tome, “Shouldn’t you be practicing with Crusher instead?”

She was practicing plenty with Crusher, it just made her really tired so she tried to keep it to the evenings so she could go straight to sleep afterward. “Don’t distract me.”

“I’m not trying to, you’ve just been at it for an hour and I think you’re making a mistake somewhere—”

“What do you know about black magic?” Annie didn’t have time for this, she had battle spells to perfect.

“Not much, but look,” he reached over her to let his finger traced down the page to the third line, “You’re doing this part wrong.”

Annie stared at the line. Annie’s brain did a little ‘huh’ and she stared some more. “How on earth did you know that?”

“I mean, it’s right there, I know the print’s pretty small—”

“I can read thank you,” said Annie as she adjusted her mental formula and tried the spell again. Sagittae burst from her hand and obliterated a tree. The horses were not pleased by the noise. He had been completely right, and if embarrassment could kill she’d be sprawled out on the ground.

“Well hey, good job kiddo,” said Sylvain as he ruffled her greasy hair and got back to whatever he’d been doing before interrupting her misguided practice.

Annie steamed as she tried to flatten out the mess he’d just made of her red head. She stared at him in a mix of disbelief and indignation, “How did you know what I was doing wrong?”

“I mean, it’s just math right?” said Sylvain in an aggravating, nonchalant way.

“Yes, I suppose,” admitted Annie. She spent hours working on her spells, and this jerk just seemed to know them naturally? This was ridiculous. She knew he was smarter than he looked, but that had to take genius level chops. “You always seem like you’re goofing off and messing around, have you actually secretly been a good student this whole time?”

“Me? Good student? No. That’s a horrible rumor that I want you to stop with right now,” laughed Sylvain. “Come on, you need a magic break, mixing things up is good for clearing your head,” he said as he took out Annie’s iron axe and his own lance. He passed her the weapon and set into position for some light sparring. He was a much more relaxed partner than Ingrid, but that didn’t make him an easy opponent. “I guess I must of picked reading magic up somewhere,” he said thoughtfully as they practiced. Whatever seriousness was left slipped away, “But you know, picking up girls is way more fun.”

Annie let out a groan as she whacked him, “You can drop the gross act. You don’t do it around Ingrid, so don’t do it around me.”

Sylvain’s easy bravado faltered a little, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Annie caught the shaft of his lance with her axe head and used all her strength to force it down so they were face to face, “I know you’re only half as disgusting as you behave. You’re apparently smart enough to grasp advanced magic you’ve never seen at first glance, you’re big, you’re strong, you’re good looking, and it’s not fucking fair.” He had no idea how easy he had it.

“Woah, Annie, language,” said Sylvain as she let off of him. “It was just a lucky guess.”

 _A guess?_ That managed to make her even angrier. She worked so hard only to be half as good. She was too small, too weak, and apparently not as good at magic as she thought. “I’m not settling for second place, not to you.” She readied her stance, “Okay, again.” Sylvain looked surprised because he knew how much she hated training with her axe, but he’d unwittingly lit a fire up inside her. She was going to show him.

“Are you alright?” Sylvain was parrying with a lazy style that drove her crazy.

“No I’m not alright,” snapped Annie as she tried for his knee and was instantly blocked. She hadn’t had a shower in months. Their original plan was destroyed. Her best friend was a prisoner of her worst enemies! To make matters so much worse, Sylvain was inadvertently rubbing her own shortcoming in her face, “All you seem to care about is getting laid. If you actually applied yourself, you’d be brilliant.” Annie let out a feral growl because she put in too much effort to be worse than him. “And guess what, it’s super annoying to hear you go on and on about how much you miss women! Since you seem to be unaware, I am a woman.” She missed feeling the way Felix made her heart race and the pleasant warmness he put into her chest when she caught him stealing a glance at her. Sylvain was making her feel like day old chopped liver that had been left out in the sun.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable,” said Sylvain as she continued to try and hit him. “I do enjoy flirting with ladies, and maybe I take it too far sometimes—”

Annie lobbed her axe at him and he narrowly dodged. Sylvain danced out of her way, “Okay maybe I always take it to far, but I don’t want to treat you like I treat other girls—”

“Oh what? Am I not pretty enough to flirt with?” Annie sent a blast of wind his way to knock him over. “Too bookish for you?”

Sylvain toppled over a log and landed in a snow pile. He stared up at her as she attempted to look as menacing as possible, “No! I don’t flirt with you because you’re Felix’s girl—”

“I’m no one’s girl,” hissed Annie as she shot a wind blast up into the nearest tree. Snow fell down on top of Sylvain as she walked away. She didn’t need any reminding that she’d only gotten two (great!) dates with Felix and then nothing. She almost wished she’d gotten captured by the Empire too, because at least then she’d be with Mercedes and Felix instead of this infuriating man child, and that thought made her feel even worse.

Sylvain made an exaggerated ‘brrr’ noise as he shot up out of the snow, “Hey you’re getting a lot better.”

“Don’t patronize me,” warned Annie. “Stop treating me like your kid sister. I’m eighteen.”

“I’m not, that was great, you should really learn to channel that anger—” He stopped talking when Annie’s fierce expression turned his way. Sylvain emitted an uneasy chuckle, “Look, sorry about the magic. Just because I get the formulas doesn’t mean I can actually cast anything. You’re still way more impressive even if you were misreading a line. It could happen to anyone.”

The fact that he couldn’t cast did make her feel a tiny bit better. Annie sighed as she leaned her axe against a tree, “Do you want to learn? I can teach you fire.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! Why not?” There was never much to do when resting the horses, and at least this was useful.

“Thanks for letting me be mad,” said Annie with a heavy heart after she’d had some time to calm down.

“None of this is easy,” said Sylvain as he flipped through her tome to the beginning where the most basic spells were.

“Sylvain, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, shoot,” said Sylvain easily.

“Do you think Felix even thinks about me, or do you think he’s moved on?” It was a frivolous fear to hold, because everything felt so much bigger and more important than whether or not a boy liked her, but it still kept her up at night. She felt guilty that she held such shallow desires when there was a whole war going on. Sylvain drew out a long “uh” instead of answering. Annie looked up at him, “Just be honest. You’re his best friend, you’d know better than anyone.”

“I don’t know,” whispered Sylvain. “But I do know that I’ve never seen Felix excited about anyone like he was excited to be around you. You’re really special Annie, and Felix wouldn’t forget that.”

It wasn’t a firm answer but it did help. “Thanks,” she said as she prepared herself to turn a bad student into a very good one.

***

The first wave of reinforcements were arriving from Fort Merceus, and Mercedes was doing her best to stay out of the way as campus went from a site of a massacre to a full on war camp. The Adrestian Army did not take well to attacks on their people, and now Garreg Mach was to be properly fortified to become a staging ground for when the Empire finally took on Faerghus. Mercedes hoped that would not be any time soon.

Mercedes paused to look down at the graveyard as she passed it. She could see someone had left fresh flowers at the Eisner family plot and had cleared the remnants of autumn away from the stone. Mercedes felt her throat getting a little tight as she thought back to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and how Jeralt had hoisted Byleth up afterward with pride even though the Black Eagles had horribly lost. Byleth had been a kind professor; Mercedes hadn’t had any classes with him specifically, but she often interacted with him in the kitchens or dining hall, or in the courtyards. She remembered how pleased she’d been when he got her flowers for her birthday. The attention had been unexpected and nice, especially considering how everyone seemed so rapt in their attention to the professor. He was undeniably handsome, and he was only a little younger than her, so the fact that he had made a special point to talk with her alone made her feel as giddy as a teenager. These days he was probably nothing more than a corpse at the bottom of a chasm thanks to Edelgard’s war.

A small but growing panic gripped Mercedes’ chest as she thought about the battle to capture this place and the current atmosphere. Mercedes squeezed her eyes shut and focused on breathing deeply. _It’s over, it’s been over for almost a year,_ she told herself. She hated the way the memories of battles would surface like this and catch her unaware. Sometimes there was a specific trigger, like thinking about Byleth’s death, but sometimes it was something as small as looking at a little patch in her clothes and remembering how the item had gotten a hole in the first place. The fear passed within a few moments, leaving only an empty feeling behind.

“What are you doing?” the deep voice nearly made her jump out of her skin as her eyes shot open to look over at Jeritza.

“Oh, hello,” said Mercedes with total surprise as she looked him over. He was dressed like a general, and he no longer needed his mask. She knew her voice sounded forced, but he’d startled her. Were they on speaking terms now? “I suppose you just arrived today?” She composed herself and smiled softly, “I sent a letter to our mother last week, I’m sure it would mean a great deal if you were to reach out to her.”

Jeritza’s eyes burned into her, “Have you informed her that I live?”

“I was hoping you would,” said Mercedes as she stared back at him. Looking at him was like looking at a familiar stranger. They had not properly conversed in over a decade, and it was impossible to deny the very different paths their lives had taken after Mercedes and Sabina had abandoned Emile.

“Best to let sleeping dogs lie,” said Jeritza. He nodded his head at her, “Enjoy your afternoon.”

How could she enjoy herself knowing that her mother’s decline was accelerated upon news of Emile’s death? Sabina had been doing alright, all things considered, and then had slid down into the depths of her despair once more to a place no one could reach when she learned her son was sentenced to die for murder. “Our mother is not well, Emile. I don’t know how much time she has left for you to speak with her again.”

Jeritza paused and regarded her with an indifferent look. Mercedes felt a tiny bit of bravery overwhelming her reluctance, “She always regretted what happened, having to leave you behind. It destroyed her. And when we heard you’d been executed, she never really came back from that.”

“Then what use does she have for whispers from a ghost?” His face remained unchanged, like he felt nothing, not even rage.

“She has use for your forgiveness, if you will give it,” whispered Mercedes. Mercedes felt a guilt welling up inside her as she considered the love she held for her brother, and the feelings of confusion that she experienced as she reconciled that he was the Death Knight. It felt like her fault that he’d become this way, “I cannot imagine the things that happened to you after we left to have made you what you are.”

The smallest amount of displeasure crossed his visage before being replaced with a look of amusement. Somehow, that made her more unsettled than if he’d been angry. “The demon that resides inside me has always been there.”

Mercedes felt the weight of his words settling over her like something she could not shake. The Death Knight was not her brother, not as she had known him, “You were an exuberant little boy. You liked butter cookies and peach sorbet. I told you ghost stories, and you liked to pretend to be a demonic beast beneath my bed and grab my ankles if they overhung the mattress.”

“Yes, I was and still am that person, but you leave out the rest. I killed our brother when I was seven. I was rewarded with peach sorbet for that,” said Jeritza with an even tone. “Gerhard and I killed poachers and trespassers upon our lands, too many to remember after long. Then, when I was ten, I was taken from him. The were no rewards of sorbet for the tasks I had to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Mercedes felt her chest getting tight with anxiety.

“When our father allied himself with the Hryms, and their rebellion failed, I was taken as his punishment,”

Mercedes’ gut were clenching up with dread at his words, “But who took you?”

Jeritza smiled, though not pleasantly, “Gerhard was the one to shape the steel, the dark mages that took me sent me into the fires of the forge to come out as I am, tempered and tested. Yet even they feared what they’d made when I passed my judgment on our father. The cowards would have seen me hang for it. It was my Emperor, a mere princess then, who finally gave him the freedom and the grounds to hunt. Now she has given me a war for the Death Knight to gorge himself on. She has given us our purpose.”

“So why are you here at Garreg Mach and not with the rest of the army?” Mercedes wished he would go back to Fort Merceus.

“I was summoned by her majesty,” said Jeritza. “I have extensive knowledge of the tunnels from my time as an instructor here.”

“Were you exploring them?”

“He was hunting,” whispered Jeritza. “I have also been informed that there is a wild boar infestation that needs exterminating.”

Mercedes felt her lips forming a grim line at the suggestion. “You’re going to go look for Prince Dimitri?”

Jeritza shrugged, “He would make a most worthy opponent, now that Byleth is dead.” He looked down at the graves almost regretfully. Jeritza’s eyes returned to meet her stare, “If Prince Dimitri has any sense, he will be long gone.”

From Felix’s descriptions of his fight with Dimitri, Mercedes feared the prince had lost all his senses. She feared for him, and whoever was near him, especially if her brother was now joining the fray.

Jeritza gave her a final parting nod, “Farewell, sister.”

“Wait,” begged Mercedes. She reached out to take his hand, “Please, this is our chance to be together again, please don’t ignore me like you did in school.”

Jeritza stared at her hand on his in silence. Finally he locked eyes with her and spoke, “I should keep my distance. I cannot control him, not even in the face of that which is most precious to me.”

Mercedes released him and felt her throat tighten as she watched her brother calmly walk away from her. Mercedes turned her head back towards the graveyard and shut her eyes to cry when she was finally alone again. She must have stood there for a long time because her hands were freezing as she composed and collected her thoughts. There was a good chance her friends were still in the woods around Garreg Mach. It had been a whole fortnight since the altercation between the Blue Lions and the Imperial patrol, but clearly the Emperor thought there was reason to keep looking for them. It wasn’t enough to pray for their safety. Mercedes was going to have to find a way to send them a warning, even if that meant sneaking into the woods herself.

Mercedes was lost in her thoughts of how she could pull off such a scheme as she returned to her room. She was so consumed she nearly barreled into someone walking in the opposite direction and also looking down. Hubert was holding a jacket and looking flustered for having bumped into her, “Ms. von Martritz, apologies, excuse me.”

She wondered when he had started to refer to her by her last name. “Good afternoon Hubert.”

Her voice must have sounded exceptionally lackluster because he paused, “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” lied Mercedes as she looked him over. He didn’t look exceptionally well either; his under-eye bags were looking particularly dark, and he did not appear to be eating enough. “What are up to?”

Hubert looked disdainfully at his jacket, the one he’d been wearing when he was attacked. “I put off getting this fixed, and now I am afraid I am expected to wear it again. I approached Bernadetta to help me mend it,” said Hubert. He looked slightly uncomfortable, “I made her faint with my request. I suppose I will just have to do it myself.”

Mercedes gestured for the jacket and Hubert cautiously handed it over. She ran her fingers over the holes, “I can help you if you’d like.” Needlework was relaxing to her, and she figured it might help her to clear her head.

“I was going to pay Bernadetta—”

“You could pay me,” said Mercedes flatly. She was offering to do it for free, but she wasn’t going to turn down a nobleman’s coin when it came to minor mending.

“Of course,” said Hubert.

She noticed how he winced slightly and let his gaze wander as her fingers inspected the hole that needed fixing. She thought of her own heart racing over a long past battle just from seeing a grave stone of a friend, and realized he was probably feeling the same. Mercedes carefully draped the jacket over her arm and stopped exposing the painful holes. “Alright, well, I’ll take care of it.”

She turned and began to walk towards her room. Hubert sprung along to catch up with her, “Do you intend on doing this soon? I am afraid I need to request a bit of a rush job.”

“It shouldn’t take all that long,” said Mercedes with a shrug. “You can pick it up later.” It was two straight lines with minimal fraying, she just had to do a patch. She’d let him deal with trying to get out the blood stains.

“If it won’t take long, may I stay?” asked Hubert. His voice was mixed with both reluctance and a strange unexpected twinge of hopefulness. It was like he was debating with himself if he had enough time, as if he wanted to stay but knew he shouldn’t. “I have arranged a meeting for us with the leader of the Abyss, perhaps I could use this time to brief you about the talks I had with the Emperor while you work? This would be two birds with one stone as it were.”

“Oh, of course,” murmured Mercedes in surprise as she opened the door to her room. She wasn’t used to having an audience while she worked like this and she hadn’t had anyone visit in her room since Annette.

The first floor dorm rooms were the same size as those on the second floor, but the furniture did not feel as fine. Hubert rubbed his gloved hands together, “Is your room always this chilly?”

Mercedes realized she had left her window open for whatever cats were currently visiting her. She made sure to shut it before drawing her shawl a little tighter, “The heat rises up to the second floor, so it’s always a bit colder down here. And the rooms farthest from the sauna are the chilliest. We used to joke that’s why they stuck the Faerghus students down at this end.” She gestured to the big thick blanket on her bed, “I manage.”

Hubert seemed to be taking in every detail of her room from his spot in her doorway. She decorated as well as she could given her means. Mercedes had begun to accrue tea pots and cups aplenty by accidentally walking off with them from the kitchens and forgetting to return them. There were little things she kept because they made her smile — dried flowers, ribbons, fancy buttons found upon the ground — and then of course her crafts. Mercedes was getting quite good at knitting lace, and she had a number of doilies she’d spent far too much time upon to not hang up.

Mercedes got out her sewing basket and spread the contents out on her bed, “You can take the chair while you wait, and close the door to help with the heat.”

Hubert was slow to stroll in and he paused at her dress form where her work in progress, the ruffly masterpiece that she was using to showcase her every sewing skill, was waiting like a ghost. His gloved fingers came up to gently run along the front ruffle and Mercedes let out a small laugh at the sight, “Hubert, are you fondling my dress form?”

Hubert’s hand rapidly left the bust of the mannequin as he stepped back, “I was admiring your attention to detail.”

Mercedes had lifted that form from Hilda’s room, where it was languishing as a display for a formal dress worn to the ball. Hilda was extremely well off, and while her measurements were a bit too small for Mercedes to steal her clothes, she could pad up the dress form and actually put it to use for some draping. Mercedes and Dorothea had a very good time quietly raiding Hilda’s abandoned possessions — it didn’t feel quite like stealing since Hilda no doubt could replace everything and then some, and it was not as if she was coming back to claim them — and Mercedes had walked away with many little bits and bobbles, new perfumes, and even some make up that didn’t quite suit her.

“You seem very subdued,” said Hubert quietly. His eyes had finished taking in all the little lace doilies and cute teapots to settle on her.

Mercedes measured out her thread and rifled through her scraps to find an appropriate sized piece to patch with. “I had a conversation with my brother right before running into you.”

“Ah. Yes, he arrived this morning at the Emperor’s behest,”

“He suggested he was going to hunt down Dimitri,” said Mercedes, though it pained her to say so.

Hubert looked a little ill at the mention of Dimitri but his expression quickly returned to unreadable, “The Emperor would like the prince to be captured, alive.”

“My brother is called the Death Knight, not the Take Prisoners Knight,” said Mercedes as she put on her thimble. “Will he be patrolling alone?”

“I haven’t begun the assignments yet, we are focusing on the Abyss first,” said Hubert. “Which brings me to our meeting, you and I will go explain the Empire’s terms, and then hopefully they’ll accept and we can begin moving people up. I would like you to oversee that part of the transition, the plan is to bring people up into the cathedral where they can get some supplies, and then they’ll be lead to the village in an orderly fashion. Jeritza will be helping to clear the traps from the tunnels as we seal them. Only once everything is closed up will any focus be given to looking for the prince.”

Mercedes hummed as she processed the information, “Could I go on patrol with my brother?”

“Why would you wish to do that?” Hubert sounded immediately suspicious of her intentions. She was learning to listen between his words; Mercedes was good at reading people, and the more time she spent around Hubert, the less imperceptible she found him. His emotions were there, they just registered smaller and flashed away back into hiding the moment he thought someone might notice. She was beginning to see beneath that cryptic mask he kept plastered to his face.

“Honestly, I’d like to spend more time with my brother,” said Mercedes. She did want that, though she wanted to spend time with him doing normal things like sharing meals or tea, not hunting for her friends. However she needed to be there to heal them if Jeritza lost control.

Hubert was silent for a few moments and Mercedes focused on her patching so as not to be caught studying him for a reaction. Eventually he spoke, “I suppose that could be arranged. You understand there is considerable risk involved though.”

Mercedes passed a finger through the hole in his uniform, “Yes, I am quite aware of that, though I’m certain my brother will protect me.” She paused and stared at Hubert, remembering how pale and lifeless he had looked when the healing potions had left his body slack. It had been disturbing to watch his eyes glaze over so rapidly, like witnessing a little death of sorts right beneath her fingers. “Imagine if a healer had been out with you when you were struck. You’d probably be a little better off right now. You lost a great deal of blood between the woods and the infirmary.”

He was still a little ashen now as he recovered, “That is a very strategic suggestion.” There was a lull in conversation as Mercedes finished with the first patch and flipped his jacket over to began the second. Hubert cleared his throat, “I, um, I wish to apologize for any inconveniences or messes I may have made while in your care.” She was picking up the small notes of shame that carried in his reserved delivery.

Mercedes glanced up to see him looking quite discomforted, “Hmm?”

“Manuela recently informed me about the side effects of a high dose of concoctions,” said Hubert. There was a slight reticence to his words and a crinkle of embarrassment, if not pain, around his eyes. This was probably as close to mortification as Hubert von Vestra could get.

Mercedes felt herself blush on his behalf; she knew exactly what he was talking about and she was positively livid that Manuela had brought it up. “That wasn’t very kind of her, most people prefer not to know what they do when their body relaxes that much.”

“I can see why,” said Hubert as he drummed his fingers upon his knee.

Mercedes gave him a sympathetic look, “If it’s any consolation I’ve seen worse in my time as a healer. I did this professionally before coming to school. I treated soldiers injured in the rebellions in western Faerghus. When you’re caring for people you’re looking towards their recovery, not back at their low points.” He did not look convinced and Mercedes tried to find something worse to compare soiling oneself to, “I’ve seen your decaying hands after battle, and if I can stomach that and still look you in the eye, I can handle anything.”

She saw his ears were red. His hands ventured beneath his thighs as if his gloves didn’t hide them enough already, “Understood.”

Mercedes hadn’t meant to embarrass him, so she quickly shifted the conversation, “How’s your black magic coming?”

“Not good enough for battle. You saw my tiny flame in the Abyss, that’s about as far as I’ve gotten,” admitted Hubert as he watched her needle slowly erasing the evidence of his injury.

“Everyone has to start, or restart, somewhere I suppose,” said Mercedes softly. She thought of her own relationship with Emile and how perhaps she needed to swallow back her longing for what they used to have and focus instead on what they could have. “You’re inspirational even.”

“Excuse me?” A glimmer of confusion surfaced on his face before being hidden back away.

Mercedes inspected the progress of the mend, it looked decent enough, “You’re doing something doesn’t come easily to you, and you’re not giving up even though you have a perfectly passable spell set. It’s a good reminder to keep trying.” She was going to have to keep trying with Jeritza, whether it hurt or not. She worried she was going to finally find the limits of her forgiveness, but she’d have to keep pressing on to find out if that was true or not.

She got up and handed him the jacket. “Use cold water when washing out the blood,” advised Mercedes. A strange look crossed Hubert’s face and Mercedes felt her own brow furrow slightly in confusion, “What?”

“You assume I don’t know how to get blood out of my clothes,” said Hubert quietly, but with a hint of amusement.

Mercedes chewed slightly on her lip as she thought about it, “Well, it seemed to hurt you when I spoke of the reputation you carried through school, so I didn’t want to make any further assumptions, including about your laundry skills.”

Hubert’s grim expression broke for a moment in which Mercedes could see an emotion she wasn’t used to seeing upon his face: _gratitude_. He carefully got out his coin purse and passed her two gold pieces, which was far too much for a job as small as this, but she didn’t protest. She wondered if he knew he was being generous or if he’d just never had to pay anyone to patch a uniform. “Thank you for all your help mending, both with my jacket and me.” He straightened up and was back to business, “Please dress appropriately for the Abyss, our meeting is scheduled for tomorrow at three. We shall meet near the barricades promptly at quarter till.”

Mercedes gave a longing look at her nearly finished ruffled dress as she wondered if she could complete it this evening. “I’ll figure something out,” she promised.

“Right, it’s a date then,” said Hubert. She watched his nose wrinkle ever so slightly at his own words. He suddenly pulled out his pocket watch, “My, my, look at the time, I must be going.” With that his exit was rather rushed like he couldn’t wait to escape her presence. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what was off about him, but it felt like something was bubbling up just beneath his surface and begging to be known.


	20. Compromised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes and Hubert go have a little chat with Yuri Leclerc and a very mysterious woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some mild body horror

_What the fuck were you thinking going to her room?_ Hubert pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited at their prescribed meeting spot. His objective was to avoid Mercedes, not find silly excuses to spend more time around her. He cringed considering his word choice before he left her yesterday, _It’s a date_ , had his lips been cursed? At least his jacket was mended. Wearing it helped him feel more in control of his emotions; it was a reminder of what his role needed to be. He was a general, and he didn’t have any room to give to these festering feelings for Mercedes that kept circling around his heart. He had a job to do, and that was to seal the Abyss as effectively as possible and prevent further danger to Adrestian lives.

Hubert was in full uniform today, sans cape and anything too shiny. He knew soldiers were frequenting the dingy Wilted Rose’s bar now the village was unmanned, and Hubert would blend in as just another dark uniformed imperial soldier down in the Abyss. He eschewed anything to signify his rank, though surely any half decent soldier would know him on sight. Maybe they would think twice before sneaking down here to get drunk after seeing him.

However, other soldiers were not his worry, it was Mercedes that him worked up. Hubert had attempted to combat his shallow attraction by making a list of all the peculiar things about Mercedes he did not like. It was pathetically short: too religious ( _but maybe not anymore?_ ), likes sweet things, likes tea, from Faerghus ( _but originally Adrestia_ ), brother is the Death Knight ( _we don’t choose our family_ ). He cursed the little compromises to negate his criticisms of her that kept whispering in his head.

Therefore the obvious antidote to his crush was to get her to stop being so nice to him. If she just treated him with disdain like most people, he didn’t think he’d still feel so warm towards her. He hadn’t been debilitated by her presence when she was furious with him following her conscription. His attraction then was weaker and easier to dismiss. She hadn’t completely taken over his brain until he was in the infirmary, though no matter how many times he reminded himself it was literally her job to care for him he couldn’t shake off the feeling of her tender magic.

He decided he’d find things she didn’t like about him and lean into them. Being cold and sarcastic was no problem for him. She was disgusted by his hands, though to be fair Hubert was too at times, but he’d left his gloves off today on purpose. The stark white fabric stood out and marked him as well off enough to keep them clean which was not ideal in the Abyss. Now the question was, could he drive her away? Mercedes defaulted to assuming goodness in people while Hubert assumed the worst. However this gave him pause, did she see _any_ goodness in him? Did he want her to? Could he stand to force her to lose all mirth towards him?

His contingency plan for fighting her weird charms was to just not look at her, though she was making it difficult as she rounded the corner looking far too divine for the little slice of hell they were about to visit. He had foolishly assumed she would understand what he meant by dress appropriately. He had intended her to blend in like him, not to wear her finest frock. She was in the ruffly dress he’d idly admired the day prior. She looked like a bride, or a nun, or a piece of cake, or somehow all three at once. She had also done her make-up and was carting a bright pink cloth tied up into a makeshift bag. There was no time to make the suggestion that she ought to change.

“You look,” Hubert was at a loss for words as his voice trailed off.

Mercedes smiled brightly and used a hand to lift the corner of her voluminous skirt to show it off, “Wonderful? I finished it this morning.”

Wonderfully overdressed was more accurate. They were not going to blend into the Abyss at all. She looked far too sweet to live down in its dank depths. The least she could have done was to mess up her hair or throw some dirt on herself. He realized she seemed to be waiting for him to say something. Hubert grasped for a back handed compliment but only came up with a lame, “You’re wearing eye shadow.”

“Oh, you noticed,” said Mercedes with surprise. “I always do my makeup when I want to make a good impression.”

 _Of course._ “Dare I ask what you’ve brought?”

Mercedes opened up the obnoxiously vibrant bag to flash him little sandwich cookies, “I used the fruit persevere I bought in the market.”

Cookies. She was bringing cookies to a negotiation with a murderous gang leader. Hubert was bringing a couple extra knives. “Let us get this over with,” said Hubert as he cleared the barricades away.

This time they descended past Burrow Street and deeper towards Chrysalis Row. Hubert’s eyes were trained on everyone they passed looking for pickpockets or worse while Mercedes’ inattentive gaze was all over the place taking in the sights. Hubert had to physically pull her out of the way of some drunkard vomiting into the mucky streets.

“Oh my,” said Mercedes with concern. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

“No, he’s just drunk,” whispered Hubert as he avoided one more questionable puddle. In the dark the pools of blood, piss, and even shit of the right consistency all looked the same. “Watch where you’re walking so I don’t have to.”

“This really isn’t a good place for children,” murmured Mercedes as some street urchins darted past them in a fierce game of tag. “Or adults, or old people, or anyone really.”

Hubert was reminded of the streets of Enbarr and their similar problems. He recalled wondering if his mother was every vacant eyed beggar he and his father passed on the street. Sometimes when he was feeling optimistic he imagined she was the woman who mistook him for her son when he was running north, but then his rationality took over and told him the likelihood of that was minuscule. “Are the streets of Fhirdiad not so depraved?”

“Some of them are,” said Mercedes. “There were some my father barred me from walking alone on, and some he outright told me to avoid completely.” Hubert had to agree with Mercedes’ father; she made for a very easy and appealing target. Hubert’s heart picked up speed as he considered how he’d intervene to stop anyone attempting to hurt her down here.

“Please stay close to me,” said Hubert as he tried not picture himself walking with her on a nicer promenade during peace time. “I do not wish to have to chase down some rogue carrying you away.” He didn’t make for much of a hero, and he doubted she would want him saving her. If anything she was probably pining for Sylvain or Dedue to break into Garreg Mach and get her the hell out of there.

Mercedes snorted as she swung her cheerful cookie bag, “Goddess help the person who lays hands on me without invitation. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone carry you off either.” She flexed her arm and gave him a wink. Hubert shook his head and was glad that all the shadows down here made it difficult to see lest his facial expressions start to give him away.

He was annoyed that she was not taking things as seriously as he did, while also confusingly refreshed by her different attitude. He couldn’t help that he found her entertaining with her cheerful optimism and strange light footed walk that teetered between a skip and a dance. He thought of her trying to cast dark magic with fluffy pink mittens on her fingers, and zapping him gently with a little spell he’d long since forgotten from his own youth. The fact that she could walk down here looking around with a nonjudgmental curiosity like there might be beauty hidden for a discerning eye made his heart ache for her to look upon him in the same way.

Eventually they reached their destination and Hubert tried not to choke on the thick scent of incense in the air. “You didn’t come alone, looks like I’ve lost a bet,” came the mocking, honeyed voice of Yuri Leclerc. Hubert had only met with Yuri once with Edelgard, and then had a handful of run-ins while he poked around down here. He knew Yuri had people watching him whenever he descended into the Abyss and it was unsettling how good they were at following him. He took great pains not to be seen down here but clearly he did not know these shadows as well as those of the surface world.

“This is my associate, Mercedes von Martritz,” said Hubert in an overly formal voice. Something about Yuri’s manner made Hubert act even more rigid than usual. Yuri didn’t look that menacing on his surface but Hubert only had to be threatened to have his throat slit once to be on constant high alert around someone. The delivery had been coy and flirtatious, but the message was crystal clear: Yuri Leclerc was a dangerous force.

“Hello, I brought cookies,” said Mercedes with a genuine smile.

Yuri looked at Hubert and smirked, “I enjoy her more than you already.” He turned to Mercedes and dramatically lifted her hand up to kiss it, “Name’s Yuri.”

“You can call me Mercie,” said Mercedes, who blushed as Yuri let her hand go.

“Mercie,” repeated Yuri melodically as he looked her over. Mercedes let out a small pleased giggle as Yuri repeated her name yet again as if it were the most interesting word in the world.

Hubert felt his jaw clenching and a strange pang in his chest that he hadn’t experienced so forcefully since he listened to Edelgard confiding in Byleth about her nightmares. Hubert had not been meant to hear the conversation, but of course he was awake and on edge that the professor was so bold as to visit the princess in her room after curfew. This feeling was jealousy, and Hubert hated himself for visibly falling prey to such a petty emotion. He cleared his throat with an excessive amount of noise and then felt extremely seen as both their attentions set upon him.

Hubert ignored the looks Yuri was now shooting him and took his seat on one of the many fine velvet and tasseled cushions Yuri had no doubt stolen over the years. This was the high court of the Abyss; a gilded cage for a savage mockingbird. Mercedes smoothed her skirt as she adjusted to sitting on the unusual poof she’d chosen and helped herself to a cookie. Yuri followed suit and seemed to enjoy the sweets quite a bit.

“Would you like something to drink?” asked Yuri as he watched Mercedes with the same expression as someone watching a exotic creature attempting to thread a needle.

“Oh, please, thank you,” said Mercedes as Yuri poured her something burgundy that was surely questionable. Hubert was offered nothing and he braced himself as Mercedes drank it, half expecting it to be poisoned. Mercedes coughed and recovered, “Oh my, that’s strong.”

Yuri chuckled at her reaction and then had his own small sip. His gaze lingered on Hubert, “Are you enjoying the books you’ve been taking, you’re getting a little greedy with them don’t you think?”

“Maybe you should hire a librarian to implement a check out system,” said Hubert dryly. “I am not here to speak about books, we need to discuss what happened near the end of Wyvern Moon.”

“A messy situation,” said Yuri as he lounged. He was twirling a lock of his pale purple hair around a slim finger and watching Hubert with his intense lilac gaze.

Hubert found that he preferred Yuri to flirt with him instead of Mercedes, lest she fall for Yuri’s seductive empty teasing, “My contacts suggested that Prince Dimitri might have been responsible,”

“Your contacts answer to me first you know,” said Yuri with contempt. He let out a wistful sigh, “Alas, yes, unfortunately it was Dimitri. I attempted to stop him, but I enjoy breathing, so.” He studied his fingernails as if this whole meeting were a waste of his time.

“Perhaps if you had some courage we wouldn’t be having this meeting at all,” said Hubert.

Yuri’s expression darkened as his eyes flicked up to meet Hubert’s stare, “We lost people too, it wasn’t just the surface that suffered. Those traps really don’t discriminate, they pretty much only kill.”

“We need to seal this place up,” said Hubert bluntly. He didn’t enjoy dancing around tough topics, especially not with such a deceitful partner.

Yuri snorted at the suggestion, “I agreed to this meeting in good faith, had I known what an idiotic suggestion—”

Mercedes interjected, “We would like the Abyssians to come up and live on the surface with us.”

For once Yuri was shocked into silence. Hubert folded his arms and was grateful he had Mercedes here, “Ms. von Martritz believes the Abyssians might fair better if they were allowed to occupy the village surrounding the monastery. Emperor Edelgard has whole heartedly agreed to the plan, for she does not wish for those marginalized by the Church to continue to suffer.” The whole Strike Force had been brainstorming ideas, from Ferdinand’s lofty goals of reopening the school as a place for the education of commoners, to Dorothea’s more grounded suggestion that an orphanage was needed, or Ashe’s offer of manning a communal kitchen away from where the soldiers dined.

“Not everyone wants to live up on your precious surface,” said Yuri, finally seeming unsettled. “Your little plan isn’t going to be popular.”

“Maybe if you gave your support for it as the leader of the Abyss,” started Mercedes.

“There’s no leader, I just protect these people,” said Yuri. “Someone has to.”

“Well you don’t have to do it all alone,” said Mercedes. “We can help you, and we can protect everyone better if we block off the source of the traps. Like you said, they don’t discriminate.”

“Forgive me Mercie, but, I can’t imagine you’re going to want to protect everyone down here. People don’t really choose to hide here. We’ve got debtors, murderers, thieves. People go underground because there’s worse things up above than living down here in the dark,” said Yuri. He looked between Hubert and Mercedes as if he’d already passed his judgment on this. “Fact is, I’m concerned once you get to know us, you’re going to change your pretty little mind.”

Mercedes had her hands folded in her lap, “Then maybe you should introduce us, and let me make up my own mind.” Her own stare, for being so sweet, was no less intense.

“I’m sorry but why on earth do _you_ care about what happens to this place?” challenged Yuri with his words squarely directed at Mercedes.

Mercedes looked nonplussed, “Because I see myself in these people.”

Hubert was not about to say the same thing even if he felt it. He had a potted response to such a question about Edelgard’s visions for Fodlan, and Mercedes response set him off balance. It seemed Yuri was similarly affected.

“ _Von_ Martritz was it? I would love to know what a noble thinks she has in common with the Abyssians,” said Yuri. “Because I haven’t met many who actually understand.”

“I haven’t been a noble in nearly fifteen years,” said Mercedes peacefully. “My mother and I were forced to flee our home because of my stepfather.” Mercedes’ voice dried up and she took a quick sip of her drink to relax. Her face was extremely conflicted and there were notes of tightness in her words, “I have a crest, and my stepfather expressed an interest in, um, having children with me because of it.” She paused as her voice began to verge on tears. Her voice had become very small, “We had to run when I was ten.”

Suddenly Jeritza’s massacre of his father and extended family did not seem half as depraved. Hubert was used to feeling protective over Edelgard, but to feel that for someone else was very new. He wasn’t sure if it was welcomed or warranted as he silently took one of her hands and gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. This sort of thing was uncharted territory for him; there were so many times he wanted to reach out and physically wrap himself around Edelgard to shield her, but such an act would be completely inappropriate between Emperor and vassal. Mercedes had no such walls up. She frequently touched people to comfort them, and Hubert hoped she would appreciate the same gesture extended to her even as the anxiety of crossing some invisible unstated line welled in the overly analytical part of his brain.

Hubert’s throat was sore with regret at the decision not to wear any gloves as his scars brushed against her unmarred skin. Mercedes looked down at his hand with heavy eyes and then returned a small pulse of her own as she composed herself, “We left knowing that he would hunt us down if he knew where we’d gone. Thankfully, we didn’t have to hide in a place like Abyss, scrapping to get by, because the church opens its doors to us. So I want to open the Cathedral to anyone who needs its shelter and safety, because that’s what saved me once. ” Hubert felt tainted as he considered the irony of someone who’d earned their scars from the goddess trying to comfort someone describing how they discovered her sanctuary.

Yuri’s face was stony and serious at the last bit, “The Church has a pretty mixed history with how its treated us, if you think that preaching about the goddess to these people is going to help them then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Mercedes pursed her lips as he finished interrupting her. “I want to make it a place for everyone, not just for those who follow the goddess, but for all the various gods and spirits people worship, or people who believe in nothing at all.” She gave a fleeting glance to Hubert and then returned her stare to Yuri, “The church has played a very significant role in my life. It wasn’t the goddess that rescued me from the struggles of my life, it was the people who live to her standards that did, though it has taken me a long time to appreciate that. You said there are people in debt, thieves, murderers even, but I don’t believe that anyone is beyond forgiveness, we just must be willing to give it.”

There was total silence in the room. Hubert wasn’t sure whether to withdraw his hand or let her keep it as he sorted through her words. He knew that Mercedes and her mother had fled their home in 1167. He had naively assumed it had something to do with the Bartels’ ill advised backing of the Hryms in their revolt. Mercedes sucked in a breath and took another sip of her strong drink, but said nothing more. The ball was solidly in Yuri’s court. Yuri didn’t look affected, but there was a slight change to his eyes. Finally he spoke, “Are you serious about making the church a place for everyone, even people who believe in nothing?”

“Yes, although I hope that at the very least, you can believe in the goodness of others, because that’s really all we have to rely on sometimes,” said Mercedes quietly. Hubert felt her finger tracing the length of one of his scars before she released his hand back to him. She took a deep breath and forced a cheerful expression, “If you don’t mind, I’d love to visit the pagan alter. I would appreciate talking to someone there to find out their thoughts on how to make the cathedral most welcoming to them.”

Yuri nodded slowly, “I suppose, but don’t be surprised if they don’t want to talk.”

They ended up winding through the confusing dark slums as they made their way towards the alter. Smokey cook fires could be spied within the homes. Mercedes frowned as they passed, “The ventilation down here cannot be good for people.”

Yuri snorted, “I think they’re more worried about a lack a food than how they cook it.”

“All the more reason to let us help,” said Mercedes. Even when speaking under her breath she managed to sound positive.

Mercedes went inside the room with the great hooded winged statue and knelt at the alter. Hubert watched her as she prayed and wished he knew what she was asking. She stood out in her fine clothes and Hubert noted people looking at her in confusion and moving away from her. Hubert stuck to the shadows with Yuri as they moved along the perimeter of the room.

As his eyes traced around they settled on the veil wearing dark mage he’d seen previously by the alter on his last trip down her. Her gremory’s fur wrap looked matted and poorly cared for and she lingered near the back of the room. Hubert let himself edge closer to her, knowing full well Yuri was going to stay glued to him as he did so.

“I did not realize dark mages prayed to anything,” said Hubert in his softest possible whisper.

The woman made a strange sign over her veiled face, “I pray for forgiveness from any gods that might listen.” Her accent was strange and definitely not of Fodlan. Her head was tilted towards the massive weathered statue, a hooded figure with great feathered wings, “I do not know the true name of this one, but if anyone will look kindly upon me, it is an old god of Thinis.”

“Thinis?”

“A name of an old world that is no more,” muttered the gremory. “From a time before the false goddess awoke.”

Hubert looked again at the winged statue wondering just how old it was, and then back to the gremory, “I taught myself dark magic, so there is much I do not yet understand. Would you be willing to answer some questions?”

Her gloves, the finest thing about her sad ensemble, were smooth satin that slid like water over his skin as she reached up to trace his cheek, “You still have time to get away.”

The ship had long sailed for him to turn his back on this war. He dug into his pockets held up the small book on dark magic that Solon had given him. He’d had on him every time he went into the Abyss on the off chance he might see this gremory again. The cover bore many similarities to the text that Mercedes had found, though that was safely stowed up on the surface. “Do you know anything about the people who put out this pamphlet?”

“Put that away. They are not the kind you want to cross. Why do you think I am here, down in Abyss?” She sounded slightly panicked as her head tilted towards the exit.

“Forgive my ignorance,” said Hubert as he stashed the pamphlet once more. “I am not trying to cause you any trouble.”

The gremory’s movements were shaky and anxious, “We go somewhere private to discuss this. Yes?”

Hubert nodded as he gave a fleeting glance to Mercedes as he debated leaving her at the alter or pulling her from her prayer. Yuri gently hit him in the arm, “I know where she lives, we’ll follow after her after some time. It’s smart to stagger.”

The gremory nodded and made her escape. Hubert cautiously went over to kneel beside Mercedes. “I found someone willing to talk.”

Mercedes looked very peaceful as she prayed. “Thank you for offering your hand to me earlier, it was appreciated,” she whispered.

“Oh,” said Hubert, caught off guard by her words. “Of course.”

Mercedes let out a very weary sigh, “I assume you already knew all that business from when you were collecting information on everyone.”

“No, that wasn’t something I was privy to,” said Hubert as he brought his hands together in pretend prayer. He felt a tinge of shame as he considered what she must have felt knowing he’d been investigating her, and worrying that he might have learned her darkest secrets.

Mercedes looked relieved and nodded, “I ask for your discretion, it is not something I am eager to discuss with anyone, but it felt like it was necessary to convey my point.”

“Understood,” said Hubert. Against his better judgment he wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, to let her know that he cared. Pleasant words of sympathy were not his strong suit, but he did have his convictions, “For what its worth, we’re fighting to dismantle the very system that has made people so desperate for crests.”

Mercedes just looked tired at the notion, “The Bartels wouldn’t have been so crest hungry if they weren’t being squeezed by Enbarr and the Emperor.”

Flashes of the Insurrection burst in his minds eye, “A steep price was paid for the actions of the last emperor.”

Mercedes was quiet for a few moments, “I wonder what price will be paid for the actions of this emperor.” Her eyes had begun to wander as she looked at all the people keeping their distance from her. Mercedes frowned slightly and looked back at the statue, “I suppose I thought this would be easier, although I think after praying here, it’s best if we just leave this statue where it is.”

Hubert thought it looked so old that moving it might destroy it. However he was beginning to appreciate that he and Mercedes did not think much in common, and he wondered what new perspective she would give him, “How have you come to that conclusion?”

Mercedes was quiet for a few moments of contemplation as she stole a long stare at Hubert, “You don’t feel it.”

“What?”

“The pull of this statue,” whispered Mercedes as she stared up into the obscured face of darkness. “I feel like there’s a great power within it. It is something not to be tampered with.”

Hubert didn’t believe statues held any power at all but he humored her by closing his eyes and pretending to pray. It was as awkward he expected. _Well if you have any advice for a mage trying not to die from using too much dark magic, I’m all ears._ Hubert’s hands were filled with a burning sensation and as he opened his eyes he swore he saw a flash of a great purple eye in the empty obscured face of the statue. He’d clearly inhaled too much questionable smoke in Yuri’s den.

Hubert got up and quickly offered a hand to Mercedes, “Come on, we need to go.”

“Who are we talking to?”

“A gremory,” said Hubert as he continued to hold her hand as he pulled her along following after Yuri. “She seemed to know at least a little about that strange statue.”

“Did you see it too?” asked Mercedes as they weaved through the market. “The eye?”

Hubert gave her a hesitant look. He felt like a shared hallucination wasn’t exactly something he wanted to discuss. Mercedes was continuing, “It was like when I cast Miasma—”

Hubert let go of her hand in shock, “What do you mean you’ve cast Miasma?”

Mercedes looked a trifle flushed as she quickened her pace, “I did a few weeks ago, I was very upset and angry about everything happening.”

“Where did you do this?”

Mercedes now looked completely embarrassed, “In the Cathedral.”

“ _You_ did dark magic, in the church?” That was far more blasphemous than anything he thought her capable of. Maybe her faith really was dead. Hubert wasn’t sure why that made him feel so badly.

“I think we’re here,” said Mercedes as she practically ran to catch up with Yuri, who had stopped to knock on a door frame.

“I am not wanting trouble,” the gremory said softly as she pulled aside a curtain to invite them into the the tight space. Hubert was practically bumping knees with her as he took a seat in the narrow room. Mercedes lingered with Yuri in the doorway.

“I do not intend to bring you any,” promised Hubert.

The gremory emitted an empty laugh, “There are rumors you intend to close the Abyss, I came to this place for safety, and now I must run once more.”

“We are trying to protect everyone,” said Mercedes from the door.

“You would not wish to protect me if you knew the things I have done,” muttered the gremory.

Hubert held a hand towards a small oil lamp beside him to illuminate the scarring so she could see their common ground. His scars was looking worse than ever, like a field of raised cobwebs upon his skin, but Hubert suspected the woman’s were far worse. “May I see your face?” Hubert knew it was a big ask but he was clambering to know what was coming for him.

Her head twitched slightly, “It is not a face worth looking upon.”

“I am trying to understand what lies ahead for me,” said Hubert with perhaps too much honesty.

The gremory let out a sad sigh and pulled her long gloves off. Hubert saw not unpleasant white lines, but mottled paper thin skin stretched tight over the tendons and bone. The scarring traced up her elbows and disappeared into her sleeves. Her fragile fingers came up to unclasp her veil and Hubert stared into a face that at one time was probably conventionally attractive but now looked like a pale decaying corpse. She was not old, perhaps only in her thirties, but her face had been eaten away by serious dark magic use. Her magic had most certainly killed many people. The tip of her nose was blunted back as if it had been snipped off and her cheeks were ragged and open with a full view of her graying teeth. Her lips were fragments, and her eyes seemed sunken back into their sockets.

She peeled back the neck her dress to reveal the tiniest hint of her discolored shoulder, “I do not use dark magic any longer. My next spell could be my last.” It was nearly at her heart.

“Were you in a war, how did you come to be like this?” Hubert wondered if she was potentially involved in the Dagda-Brigid invasion, and had been left behind, yet her accent was nothing like Shamir’s or Petra’s.

It was very difficult to read her emotions, but the distance in her eyes spoke volumes, “I worked for _them_. I killed for them, and they left me to die. Now I beg forgiveness from their gods, what little good it has done me.”

“Those who slither in the dark?” Hubert was desperate to understand if a thread connected the events across Fodlan through time to the things done to Edelgard in the darkness beneath Enbarr.

“That is a name to mock them,” her voice fell to a barely audible whisper, “They call themselves Agarthans.”

“Like the book title,” said Mercedes. “ _Sapere aude Agartha_.”

The woman looked at Mercedes with pain in her eyes and then quickly moved to put her veil back on. “They are dangerous. They do not like people asking questions about them.”

“Wait,” said Mercedes as she pushed her way uninvited into the room, “At least let me try to heal you. If you’re in pain maybe I can help.”

“I am beyond healing,” whispered the woman as she fixed her face covering and pulled her gloves back on.

“Momma,” a small voice cut through the tension in the room as a small child ran in from the streets.

The gremory picked up the child, who couldn’t be more than five or six, “You are back from playing early.” Her voice had a forced sense of calmness to it.

Hubert stared at a little girl who was very obviously from Duscar. Familiar scars that echoed similar ones covering Edelgard and Lysthea dotted the her exposed arms. She clung to the gremory fearlessly as if the face beneath the veil was that which loved her most. His mind raced with possibilities, though his tongue was slow, “Were you involved with the Tragedy—”

“I don’t like where this is going, that’s enough questions,” said Yuri as he began to pull Mercedes from the room.

Hubert had seconds left with the gremory, “Please, were you there?”

The mage held the small child close, “That was the day I ran from them with what I could carry.”

Yuri was back and grabbed Hubert’s shoulder to yank him towards the door. Hubert hated being pushed around and quickly shrugged the smaller man off, but decided it was best to let the conversation end, for now.

Yuri pressed a finger into Hubert’s chest, “Don’t invite this shit down here. I don’t need this kind of trouble on top of everything else.”

Hubert batted Yuri’s hand away. “This _shit_ , as you phrased it, seems to be everywhere. I am attempting to find the source of it, and if you would stop undermining me I might actually be able to do something about it.”

“Please don’t fight,” said Mercedes as she physically pushed her way between the two men.

Hubert wasn’t going to actually fight Yuri, at least not down here where Yuri’s gang was in high supply. Hubert tried to focus on Mercedes’ advice of how to win over allies, “I understand why you don’t want this here, and that it will put some Abyssians in danger if they come up to the surface. They can remain down here, we’ll keep part of the Abyss open as a refuge. However I can only keep the bad things out if I know how to recognize them.”

“Ironic coming from someone who commands a battalion of dark mage engineers,” said Yuri. Apparently his spies extended to the surface as well.

“Keep your enemies close,” whispered Hubert and he and Yuri stood barely separated by Mercedes. Hubert took the opportunity of Yuri’s suspicion filled silence to pull out the documents he’d prepared outlining the plan as it was approved by the Emperor, “This is for your review, we can negotiate to keep the market open and that tavern and some of the residences, but as it stands another attack could come of those tunnels at any time. We need to move fast for all of our safety.” He hoped that he didn’t have to say this in front of Mercedes but whether Yuri agreed or not the Imperial Army was going to be closing up the trap laden tunnels, doing whatever it took to see that through. “I hope we’ll have your cooperation, for everyone’s sake.”

Yuri moved with surprising speed to take the papers. “How long do we have before you start?” At least he had appeared to have gotten the message that this was happening with or without his agreement.

“A week,” said Hubert. One week was as quickly as the rest of the reinforcements from Fort Merceus could get here with the needed materials to barricade the tunnels. The Abyss was massive and complex, no good maps existed of it, and it was potentially going to take some time to fully block up the place. Hubert would work until not even rats could make their way through.

“How generous,” scoffed Yuri. “You’re upending generations of people who’ve lived down here you know, they need more time.”

Hubert was determined to get in the last word, “If they refuse they are welcome to spend eternity in the dark. Those tunnels will be sealed as soon as possible.”

Mercedes looked up at him in total horror, and then laughed nervously, “You love your sarcasm don’t you?” She made a big point to shake Yuri’s hand in a show of collegiality, “It was very nice meeting you. We’ll be in touch about the logistics transitioning people up to the village. Maybe we can even make time to come back and address any concerns raised by the locals.”

Yuri was looking between them as if totally unsure now what to make of the pair, “You want to have a town meeting or something?”

“Oh, what an excellent suggestion,” said Mercedes brightly. “How about we meet in the tavern? We could do it this Wednesday evening.”

“Uh, I suppose,” said Yuri. He wasn’t usually one to sound so uncertain, but Mercedes’ cheerful attitude had clearly unsettled him.

“Wonderful, well, enjoy those cookies,” said Mercedes with her voice dripping with sweetness and sincerity as she ushered Hubert towards the exit. So much for an intimidating last word, instead they were leaving with utterly saccharine farewell. Regardless of his personal feelings towards Mercedes, Hubert could not risk being compromised like this when it came to his work.

When they were back up on the surface Mercedes’ pleasantries melted away to total incredulity, “Eternity in the dark? I can’t believe you just threatened to trap them down there.”

“I wouldn’t really trap them, they’d just be forced out,” snapped Hubert as he inadvertently went into a defensive state. He didn’t need his threats being critiqued, not from the least scary person he knew. “I was doing my job and conveying the severity of the situation.”

“You shouldn’t speak like that to someone you’re trying to work with,” said Mercedes. “Why on earth would they cooperate with us when you’re threatening them?”

“Your opinions have been noted,” said Hubert in a huff. His methods got results, and he could not speak to the efficacy of cookies as a negotiating tool. Mercedes drew in a deep breath, she looked like she had something to say and Hubert could not help himself as he braced for whatever unsolicited advice she was about to give him, “What?”

Mercedes folded her arms and stared him down, “So what slithers in the dark?”

An ripple of dread ripped through him, and Hubert resisted the impulse to cup his hand over her mouth, “This is not a topic for discussion in the open Ms. von Martritz.”

“Why are you only using my last name all of a sudden?”

“Because, we are colleagues, nothing more, and that is the polite way to address you,” said Hubert as he folded his own arms. 

Mercedes was eying him closely with a degree of suspicion he did not enjoy. “Fine, _General von Vestra_ , where do colleagues go to discuss things? Your office perhaps?” She began to lead the way back towards the monastery.

Hubert reached out to take her lightly by the wrist and pulled her towards a more private corner away from the view of the nearest walkway. His voice dropped to a whisper, “Surely you have more important things to go do.” He stopped himself before rudely suggesting she could go bake a cake or something to that effect.

Mercedes pulled away from his grip, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but have you ever considered you might have more success if you asked others for help?”

He was torn between wanting to loom over and intimidate her, and not truly wanting to make her hate him. He craved distance but the idea of her rejection hurt and he wasn’t sure he had it in him to drive her away. It was also flustering that she didn’t actually seem all that scared by him at all. Perhaps it was hard to be frightened of someone she had seen helpless in the infirmary. “This is a job that necessitates discretion.”

Mercedes’ eyes narrowed in on him, “Don’t treat me like some little gossipy girl. I appreciate what it means to keep information quiet seeing as you had no idea why I had to flee my home.” She took a deep breath as if stopping herself from saying too much. She looked at the walkway as if making sure no one was too close as her voice dropped to a whisper, “Do you have a file on my brother and what happened to him?”

Hubert had not been expecting such a question. Jeritza was plenty mysterious and Hubert was able to collect very little information on him. “It’s a thin dossier, he’s not exactly chatty.”

Mercedes sighed and shut her eyes, “He alluded to being taken by dark mages as a youth. He said they trained him.” Mercedes eyes opened and locked with Hubert’s as if trying to emotionally bend him to her will. He found that he was not immune to the silent power of her stare. “If you’re looking into dark mages, perhaps you and I are asking after the same people. Maybe we’ll find our answers if we help each other.”

Hubert’s thoughts were consumed with dark mages swarming the Imperial throne room that were part of the rebelling Adrestian army during the insurrection. They would have been the same units sent to put down the Bartels, the Hryms, and the Ordelias only a few years before. Those mages that had experimented on Lysithea, and then the imperial children, and worked for Arundel. Now he had a measly shred of evidence that potentially linked them all the way to Duscar. It would come as little shock to know that Jeritza was caught up in the same sticky web.

Hubert stared at her with discomfort. He could use help with this, but he did not exactly wish for her help. She was, no matter how nice or kind she appeared, of a hostile country and working here without choice. That was the easiest of the reasons to refuse her.

He worried over the weird warm sentiment his brain tortured him with whenever she was near. His heart was attempting to trick his brain into trusting her, and it’s arguments were annoying compelling: she already knew too much in having overheard his conversation with the gremory, she had helped with the books unknowingly tangling them both in this, and she did offer precious insight he lacked into what Fhirdiad would have been like in 1176. She would have been practically an adult then, and he could only guess the kinds of things she’d seen and heard. She could have further details from her friends, perhaps even Dimitri, and that kind of rare intimate look into a place he had no intelligence on was tantalizing.

Yet there was also the matter of her safety. Would he risk her wellbeing if she was seen associating with him too much? Arundel had killed Hubert’s father for sport, and the last thing Hubert needed was a precious thread for the regent to snip if the mood struck him. It was foolish to think that Arundel did not have spies at Garreg Mach or even down in the Abyss. Letting her help him endangered her. Then there was the unpleasant fact that trying not like her really wasn’t working. He kept finding excuses to talk with her even as he reminded himself to avoid her. He’d tried being formal and using her last name, he reminded himself that she’d seen him at his worst in the infirmary, and none of it was working. Now while his brain shouted to send her away, his heart was bartering for more time spent beside her. He wanted to tell her no, but the words that came out were, “If you meet with me later we can speak privately on this.”

“When and where?”

Hubert was improvising. “I’ll let you know.”

Mercedes’ eyes betrayed her mistrust, “You could just say no instead of stringing me along.”

“Fine, I suppose my office, near midnight,” said Hubert. “Not tonight though, please. Give me a few days.” He needed a few days to make a plan, consult with Edelgard, and understand just how much of a hornet’s nest he was kicking when it came to vivisecting Arundel’s inner workings. He feared he had already told Ferdinand too much, and as loathe as he was to admit it to himself, Hubert wasn’t sure what the right course of action was.

“Wouldn’t visiting your office so late at night be a little scandalous?” Her stare was hardened as if set on measuring his reaction.

Hubert concentrated on keeping his face as disdainful as possible at such a suggestion, “Would you prefer the graveyard so there are no murmurs of impropriety?”

“I don’t suppose anyone has ever called you charming,” said Mercedes with a quiet sigh. “Fine, I’ll meet you at your office. I’ll bring tea.” She began to walk in the direction of her room.

He had failed to get the last word with Yuri, but at least he could have it with her, “Please don’t on my account.” She did not react and Hubert wondered if she was even close enough to hear his little snipe. Hubert massaged his temples as he wondered what the hell he was letting himself get into.

***

Mercedes knew a secret. Hubert von Vestra seemed to like her, perhaps quite a bit more than colleagues, and he was poorly hiding that fact. It was more than what he’d said about doing more than dancing when his lips were loosened up by concoctions, though that had made her tune into his behavior. There were all the little things, from birthday cookies to preferred shifts in the infirmary, even noticing her make up, and bigger ones like agreeing to her plans for the Abyss or patrols with her brother. However the moment she knew for sure was his honest reaction to Yuri being flirtatious with her. When Yuri had pressed his lips to her hand, and she had told him to use her nickname, Hubert’s face — normally so stoic and purposefully obscure — had become a momentary portrait of envy and jealousy.

She contemplated his behavior down it Abyss. Mercedes was still put off by his empty little threat to trap the people who wouldn’t leave. However he had also offered his hand to her when she thought she might be unable to continue speaking. It suggested he could be kind when he chose, even if he was so cold and cutthroat most of the time. It seemed very likely that Hubert was fond of her, and Mercedes pondered how she might use such information when they met later, much later. She wasn’t sure what his intentions were but a small ripple of heat coursed through her as she considered the possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hubert. Dudebert. She knows.


	21. The Art of Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Words of Love, Chapter Two: The Art of Seduction_  
>  Seteth groaned as he got out his ink and prepared to censor more of Gautier's terrible book before sending it down to the Abyss Library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning, 
> 
> brief references to sexual abuse of Mercedes' mother, masturbation

**Fhirdiad, 1168**

Confession was never fun, but they did this every Friday when the chapel wasn’t busy. Mother and daughter were kneeling at the alter in the quiet of the mid morning lull. Sabina glanced down at Mercedes, “Do you have anything you need to tell the Goddess this week?”

Oh no, how did her mother know? Guilt welled up inside Mercedes as she let out a sad sigh. She pressed her small hands together, “Goddess please forgive me for being selfish this week. I was in charge of cutting up a cake and I wasn’t careful, and one piece was a little large, and another too small. I, I took the big piece because it was really good cake, but that meant someone else got stuck with the small piece. I’m really sorry, and I’ll take the small piece from now on.”

She stole a glance up at her mother, and saw Sabina was trying hard not to laugh. This was serious! Mercedes had put herself ahead of others, what if the Goddess wouldn’t forgive her? Sabina gently stroked the back of Mercedes’ head, “Is that all?”

“Yes that’s all!” Mercedes wasn’t bad, she just really liked cake! The Goddess had cursed her with this sweet tooth and Mercedes was not great with sugary temptations. That’s probably why the Goddess kept sending them her way, it all made sense that every slice of cake was a test.

“I’m sure the Goddess will overlook your minor transgression,” said Sabina with the barest hint of a smile as she stared up at the beautiful stain glass depiction of Sothis surrounded by her loving children. The small smile receded and disappeared, “She has tolerated my sins, and nothing you do will ever come close to what I have done.”

“Mom,” said Mercedes softly. She hated when things skewed this way, _You don’t do anything wrong_. If she said something like that out loud, Sabina would begin to list off her many wrongs and they’d be here all afternoon. Her mother was sad, that couldn’t be denied, but she wasn’t bad. Since coming to the church, Sabina had adhered to the teachings of Seiros better than even the nuns and monks. She prayed more than anyone, usually dragging Mercedes along with her.

Sabina had her eyes shut as she silently did her own confession. Her lips moved for a long time, though Mercedes wasn’t able to make out the words. Finally her mother looked down at her, “Pray for your brother, and your step sisters.”

Mercedes always, always prayed for Emile. She prayed he was safe and finding ways to be happy. Colette and Jeane didn’t inspire her as much but she prayed for them too. She wished their husbands were nice to them, and that they liked being far away from Gerhard. She did not pray about Gerhard at all; if the Goddess saw fit to punish him, good, but if not, Mercedes decided it was best not to make demands. It didn’t feel good asking for someone to be hurt, even if they were absolutely terrible.

After confession, Sabina and Mercedes took a walk through the church’s gardens. “Mom, why do you get to do your confessions silently?”

“Because I have done things too bad for your ears,” said Sabina stiffly.

Mercedes frowned, “I’m eleven, I’m old enough to know.”

Sabina squeezed Mercedes' hand, “I’ve done what I’ve had to do to protect myself and you. Since I first felt you move inside me, I have always acted to keep you safe. However, the things I’ve done have had consequences. The Goddess has seen fit to punish me before I earn my salvation.”

Mercedes squeezed back, “What do you mean you’re punished?”

“The Goddess took Emile because that’s how bad I was,” said Sabina quietly. When she started using that tone, Mercedes knew to stop asking questions or her mother would get very sad. In time Mercedes came to understand that it was not the Goddess’ forgiveness that Sabina needed to accept, it was forgiving herself that was so difficult.

**Fhirdiad 1170**

Mercedes was spying on her mother. She knew she ought not to, but she was pretty invested in this date going well. Michel and Sabina were taking a picnic lunch together and talking in a public garden not too far from the church.

Sabina was actually smiling. Mercedes hadn’t seen anyone else make her mother smile this much since they had to leave Emile behind. Mercedes' throat grew a little tight. She couldn’t risk sending her brother letters so she sent him prayers instead. She asked the Goddess to make him dream about what she was saying so they could talk without Gerhard finding out where they were. She eagerly awaited his responses, though perhaps dreams weren’t the ideal medium for communicating; it was not as if Emile had been raised to pray. Maybe he wasn't responding because he didn't know how. 

Mercedes saw the picnic was ending and panicked as she hurried to get back to the room she shared with her mother. She was allowed to wander around the church unsupervised and she could go places with permission, but she knew her mother would be furious to learn her thirteen year old daughter was alone in a big public park. Unfortunately for Mercedes she was clumsy and not stealthy as she ran. She had distinctive long blond hair and she was tall for a girl, so Sabina spotted her right away. Mercedes did not know she was caught however until bedtime.

“Why did you follow me today?” asked Sabina quietly. They were still kneeling in prayer at the foot of the full bed they shared in the cramped room.

“I wanted to see if you liked Michel,” said Mercedes softly. “I like him.”

“I know, he is a good man,” said Sabina.

“Do you think you’ll marry him?” Mercedes’ words poured out too eagerly.

Sabina still had her eyes closed, “Marriage is not something to be taken lightly.”

Mercedes knees hurt from kneeling so long on the stone, but she realized she’d just inadvertently triggered a lecture. She focused on her hands to keep her mind off the cold floor.

“My marriage to your father was arranged by people who loved me, and they made sure to send me to a good and kind man,” said Sabina quietly. “However, they were also interested in wealth, and there’s no way around the fact that I was _sold_ to a family for our crested blood.” She unclasped her hands to gently stroke Mercedes’ hair, “You do not tell people of your crest because it is rare and desirable, and therefore a danger to you for anyone to know.”

“Yes mother,” parroted Mercedes. This had been drilled into her for the last three years of living in Fhirdiad. If word got out there was a little girl bearing the crest of Lamine, then Gerhard could catch wind and use it to find them.

“The von Martritz family was vulnerable, weak, and they destroyed themselves,” said Sabina sharply. “I ran because they would have killed you inside me to shore up the succession.”

Mercedes knew this, and yet her mother kept repeating this same horrific story to her over and over. Sabina returned her hands to pray, “I feared for you, I feared for me, so I found protection from a very strong man. I sold myself, but because I was so desperate, I did not vet the buyer.”

Mercedes felt a little sick as her mother spoke of herself like livestock. Sabina usually dropped things at this point, but Mercedes had recently started her period and now her mother felt the need to warn her of sex. “He raped me,” said Sabina without emotion. “Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes,” murmured Mercedes. The nuns had told her all about it, but always in an abstract way. Rape was a thing that happened to _other_ people when the nuns described it.

“I eventually forced myself to have sex with him to keep him from taking it from me as he desired, and to keep him from taking out his frustrations on you and Emile,” said Sabina with a chill to her words. “Then I sinned against the Goddess by taking poison so that I would not have more children. In doing so, the Goddess made Gerhard desire children in a different way.”

A shocked little “uh” slipped from Mercedes lips before she smacked them shut. Mercedes was pretty sure Gerhard was just evil, and that her mother’s actions hadn’t made him that way. However her mother had convinced herself of her narrative. This was the Goddess’ wrath, plain and simple.

Sabina made the sign of peace over her head and looked up at the depiction of the crest of Seiros hanging upon the wall, “Mercedes, I pray every day that you do not have to do the things I did. I pray that you find yourself a kind and gentle man who is strong enough to protect you but does not use that strength against you. I pray you aren’t traded like cattle for that cursed mark of Lamine in your veins, I pray that you will be—”

“Mom,” whispered Mercedes to stop the fervor her mother was sinking into. “I pray that I’m strong enough with the Goddess on my side that I don’t need someone to protect me. I pray to be strong enough to protect you too, but I also prayed to the Goddess for help making you happy, and Michel came into our lives.” Sabina was silent. Mercedes hoped she hadn’t just seriously overstepped, “I know you believe you should be punished for things that happened, but I think you punish yourself more than the Goddess ever will.” Mercedes voice became as small as she had ever heard it, “I pray that you accept the forgiveness the Goddess gives you.”

Eventually Sabina did allow herself to receive some love. She had many normal, good days. It was the greatest happiness Sabina had likely experienced as an adult. However when news finally reached them of Gerhard’s death and Emile’s execution the good days became fewer and fewer. A year after that news Mercedes had shamefully left to go aid people she felt she actually could help. It felt terrible, but every day spent trying to coax her mother back only made Mercedes feel more powerless.

**Garreg Mach, 1181**

In her room, Mercedes contemplated the tiny little crack she had found to propagate in her current imprisonment. Hubert was quite possibly interested in her, and she was not sure what to do with that information. Her mother would be absolutely horrified to know that Mercedes was in a situation where she had the potential to seduce her way to freedom. However, Mercedes wasn’t entirely sure escape was the right move right now, and she’d never exactly initiated things with anyone before. At the School of Sorcery she’d been too focused on school to pay attention to anyone romantically. At work in the church she’d become smitten and was pursued by her lover. She also wasn’t sure she had it in herself to seduce Hubert just in order to escape; it felt too duplicitous and unfortunately he didn’t seem like the type to just let her go once he learned he was duped. What if he hunted her down…or sent Jeritza after her?

Mercedes felt a little sick as she thought about her own brother coming to collect her just like she had nightmares about when she’d fled the Bartels. Would he do that? He was the whole reason she was here in the first place, in a fashion. Mercedes tried very hard not to wonder too much what her fate would be if Jeritza had just left her passed out on the ground during the battle for Garreg Mach. Maybe her friends would have come to rescue her, but maybe someone else would have subjected her to something much worse than being a healer for the Empire. There was the slow creep of whispers from her mother of what men did to helpless women and Michel telling her what streets weren’t safe, with the unstated implication that was where bad things happened to unprotected girls like her.

Mercedes shut her eyes and thought shamefully of the war monk she’d given herself over to and why. Peter, stupid Peter, who had made her feel so safe and wanted with his strength and his desires. Foolishly, she had assumed no one selfish worked for the church, but he’d used her and strung her along. She pushed him from her mind too and opened her eyes not just to her room, but to the reality of her situation.

She’d all but given up on the Goddess guiding her anywhere and yet it did feel like she’d landed here for a reason. She was actually working to make a meaningful change for the people of the Abyss. She could not help but feel her heart break thinking about children growing up down there when they could be running through the courtyards in the fresh air. If she left before seeing things through, would they actually get done? Escaping also jeopardized her chance to understand Emile and what had happened to him over the last decade to make him into the Death Knight. She felt she owed it to him to understand him, and owed it to her mother in a way after all Sabina’s guilt had chewed her up and spit her out. Jeritza was still Mercedes’ brother beneath his mask, and she could not help but want to stay here with the Empire if this was his place. Escape would close the book on their relationship for good, and she wasn't sure she could live with the guilt of running away from him a second time. Mercedes hugged her pillow to her chest and began to formulate a plan for what she was going to do when she met with Hubert late in the evening in his office.

It was strange knowing that someone wanted her since no one expressed any interest in so long. She always hoped secretly that surely someone was interested from afar, although she would have never expected Hubert to take that role. Mercedes wondered what such a pairing would even look like. Hubert was hardly fit the bill for the special person she fantasized about settling down with. She supposed she had to update that mental image since high on her list had been "religious", but clearly she wasn’t the picture of faith any more. She wanted someone good and kind, involved in the community, and interested in a big family the either made or collected around themselves. She longed for someone to read ghost stories with, to bake and knit sweaters for. She wanted someone to season the food so she didn’t have to, and who would only make things too spicy in the bedroom.

Mercedes closed her eyes and groaned into her pillow. She hadn’t had sex in two years. She was embarrassed at first by how much she enjoyed it, and ashamed now by how much she missed it. At the very least, Hubert seemed like someone who was probably more daring than most, and that was exciting. She’d never had sex just to have it, but she was willing to entertain the possibility because there were a few things she wanted to try. However she was almost certain that Hubert did not view her as particularly bold because no one seemed to.

Mercedes was unpleasantly aware of her own reputation during school. Just as Hubert had bristled at her unfair assumptions about his prior experiences with killing, Mercedes carried a very different but potentially as pervasive reputation. She was treated like a pure saintly young woman who despite being snickered about as motherly behind her back was also apparently not sexual at all. Mothers had sex, that was how they became mothers! Yet Mercedes had landed herself into a hole where she was treated like a chaste nun. She had learned this the hard way from Sylvain when she caught him with a particular magic tome.

She had landed next to him in a reason seminar and saw the book peeking from his bag, _Bedchamber Black Magic_. When Sylvain had run to use the restroom before the start of the lecture, Mercedes plucked it free to investigate. The book was illustrated and detailed in what spells could be used where, alone or with partners. Mercedes had idly paged through with interest wondering if Sylvain was attending the seminar to learn basic magic purely for sex purposes. That was extremely interesting to her and it was the first time that Mercedes thought of Sylvain as a potential partner.

“Do you need any help with this?” tried Mercedes in an attempt at being playful when he came back to take his seat beside her. They enjoyed a cheerful, joking sort of friendship, and she figured this was in line with that.

His face had turned as red as his hair when he figured out what she was reading, “Mercedes, I’m so sorry, that has to be disgusting to you.”

Mercedes shrugged and closed the book but did not give it back, “Why would I find this disgusting?” She tried to sound earnest so he wouldn’t mistake her interest. Honestly she found it inspiring especially given how starved for intimate affection she felt at Garreg Mach. She had plenty of friends, but no one was exactly trying to get close to her in any other ways. Sylvain had earned his reputation and it was close enough to graduation that Mercedes was willing to try him on for size. The double date with Annie and Felix had helped Mercedes feel like Sylvain wouldn’t conflate something casual for anything more. This was a risk she was willing to take.

“Well, uh, it’s like,” Sylvain scrambled for the right words. His voice dropped down to a mutter, “It’s pornography.” He looked like he wanted to grab the book and burn it. “You don’t find this offensive?”

“No,” said Mercedes easily. She wasn’t sure why he thought she would mind so much. “Sex is a beautiful thing, why should I be bothered?” Sylvain looked like his brain had been slightly broken before he recovered with a weak chuckle. Mercedes frowned at his lack of response as her eyes narrowed in on him, “You know women can enjoy sex, right? Is that the whole point of this tome? Giving and receiving pleasure?” She was being liberal with her definition of pleasure, some of the acts did not look like the were intended to feel good in the conventional sense.

He turned red again, “I don’t think we should be talking about this, I think Hanneman’s about to start the lecture.”

“Are you just here to learn how to use these entry level bedroom spells?” teased Mercedes. She was almost certain now that was the case. She took it a step further, “Well, if you need a tutor, I’m available.”

“Are you,” began Sylvain with a mix of uncertainty and discomfort. He laughed because he did not seem to know what else to do to defuse the tension, “Are you suggesting that we—”

Mercedes let a playful sigh, “I mean you could always go ask Hanneman for help instead, he’s probably an expert.”

Sylvain looked like he might go jump into the pond. “You know maybe reason isn’t for me.” He gathered his bag and gave a fleeting look at his salacious book before abandoning it in favor of escape.

It was Mercedes turn to feel mortified. She had been trying to flirt a little, although apparently he’d been more embarrassed than interested. Sylvain was constantly flirting with girls, taking them to bed, and then complaining about them after. That was not what Mercedes was interested in but sometimes she wondered if he found something wrong with her that he wouldn’t flirt with her. It felt like if he, the school skirt chaser, wasn’t interested then no one would ever be. So while she cheered on Annie finally getting her much desired date with Felix, a very small part of Mercedes felt more isolated than ever before as she listened to the recap of the pair’s extremely innocent and lovely second date.

This was how Mercedes had ended up with _Bedchamber Black Magic_ in her possession. She was grateful it had spells for solo use in its pages because these days Mercedes was very lonely. Now she had a potential partner to try out some of the more complicated spells. Hubert, for all his faults, was a mage, and did not seem like the type to get attached to anyone not named Edelgard. That was ideal; she didn’t want a relationship but she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge how low she felt having not been physically intimate with anyone in years.

She could easily do nothing and carry on, business as usual. He would be General von Vestra and she Ms. Von Martritz, and nothing would change. She could even go so far as to rebuff any advances if he dared to make them. That was the unexpected benefit of having the Death Knight as her brother; if she didn’t like someone… they’d probably end up dead. That was a horrid thought and Mercedes didn’t want to venture down that mental path. She tried to focus instead up on a _what if_. What if they had done more than dance and share a tame little kiss last year?

Mercedes shut her eyes as she gently rubbed herself through the thick fabric of her skirts. She attempted to set the scene in her head and her brain ended up sneaking into the ghostly cathedral, as it had been before the battle. _Hubert picked her up and deposited her up on the alter, and then got down on his knees._ In her bed, Mercedes pulled up her skirt fervently as she tried to imagine his face between her legs and the devilish smirk upon it. _Hubert wet his lips, “This is my prayer.”_ She moved her fingers into place as she tried to imagine what that would feel like as she cast her favorite little spell. She’d always been too timid to ask for this sort of thing with her only partner because she disliked feeling demanding, so in her fantasies it was offered up like whoever she was imagining was ravenous for her. She was used to taking care of people, but sometimes she wanted to be the one caught up in a tender embrace of someone devoted to pleasuring her.

Mercedes let out a small self-indulgent moan as she imagined Hubert confessing his lust into her folds. Mercedes’ mind’s eye was bathed in the colors of the shattered stained glass window as she softly gasped and shuddered from the wonderful enhancing effects of her favorite solo spell. She increased the fervor of his imagined invocation as her fingers beat a rapid pace. She pictured his scarred fingers eventually slipping inside her while his other hand carefully unbuttoned his pants, _“Is that a hymn you’re humming for me?”_

The sounds she was making were far from sacred. She knew exactly what his flaccid set looked like and a small hungry part of her wanted to imagine him hard and ready for her. That shameful thought knocked Mercedes from her building desires down into a valley of self consciousness. Her fingers slowed and withdrew as she uncomfortably pushed her skirt down as if to shut down her desires. It wasn’t right to picture him naked given the context she’d seen him in. It conjured up how he’d looked almost dying in her hands, and his rocky recovery that was still ongoing. He tried to hide it, but he moved slower than he used to and he wasn't looking particularly healthy at the moment. She wondered if he could even have sex right now without being in pain. It was difficult to picture their bodies pressing together knowing the big bruise he surely still had upon his torso.

Mercedes sighed and buried her face into her pillow so she could emit a loud disgruntled sigh. She had been mildly interested in Hubert, more curiosity than crush, a year ago when she danced with him. However it was easier to be intrigued by him when she had not known he was plotting a war. Now she was merely horny and had a whiff that he was interested. Of all the Adrestians, why was it Hubert von Vestra whose eyes she had caught? That could only be topped by sleeping with Edelgard in terms of terribleness. Those two had organized this whole damn mess, they had provoked Rhea into destroying Mercedes’ faith and declared war on her homeland.

Why couldn’t Ferdinand be interested in her? Or Bernadetta? At least they had only come over to the Empire’s side when they had no other choice. Although these days Ferdinand was attempting to advise the Emperor and serve Adrestia as dutifully as possible. He spoke of it sometimes when Mercedes took her meals with him; he had grand ambitions and was optimistic that he could actually help guide Edelgard onto a less bloody path. Mercedes wondered if she could not hold the same kind of sway over Hubert. That cast things in a slightly less desperate light for her. Manipulating Hubert into doing good because he liked her seemed like a roundabout way of getting things done, but she could potentially get a little satisfaction beyond helping others by doing it this way. She decided it couldn’t hurt to try to indulge his little crush in the hopes he might indulge her in turn. With that thought her stomach let out a growl and she realized she’d spent far too much time daydreaming and was actively missing dinner.

Mercedes wasn’t very enticed by the rations being served that evening as she gathered her tray. The dining hall was packed with unfamiliar faces and there weren’t a lot of chairs available. She tried to find her usual dining companions in the crowd. Felix was corned at a table looking bored as Ashe and Caspar carried on, Ferdinand was animatedly dominating a discussion with Edelgard, and Bernadetta had surveyed the situation and immediately turned to leave for her room.

As Mercedes scanned around she saw one person who was afforded a wide breadth, Jeritza. She gave another glance at Felix, knowing that she could certainly squeeze in next to him, and then summed her courage to go finally sit with her brother. She’d been given this rare opportunity to reconnect, and she wasn’t going to squander it. Mercedes walked up behind him and gently set her tray down. Jeritza’s spoon stilled but he did not look at her. He also did not say she couldn’t sit with him, so she invited herself to take the chair beside him.

She wasn’t exactly sure where to begin, so she chose the easiest topic, food, “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much fish in my life since coming to Garreg Mach.” Mercedes understood fish and beans were the easiest way to feed a great deal of people, but she craved some other kind of meat for once.

Jeritza did not react as he continued to eat. Mercedes worked on cutting up her portion and mixing the whole plate together. Mercedes lifted up her fork to look at the flaky fish, “I remember eating lots of game at the Bartels.” She dared not call it home but she figured if she could talk about that place openly with a stranger, Yuri, and a very frustrating acquaintance, Hubert, she could attempt to discuss it with her own brother.

“I remember the deer you named,” said Jeritza softly. “And then Gerhard yelled at you when you did not wish to eat them.”

Mercedes remembered the orphaned fawns and their lovely soft coats, and how she’d raised them in the pen with the other livestock. “I remember you getting mad because I named one after you.”

“I was not mad,” whispered Jeritza. “I just did not think Emile was a fitting name for a little girl deer.”

Mercedes tried to enjoy a few bites lest she scare him with too much conversation. She dared not bring up their step siblings and the bad memories around them, nor the distant relations that filtered in and out during their time there. “Do you remember Constance von Nuvelle?” Mercedes had run into her at the School of Sorcery, but only in passing, and they never had classes together. Mercedes had kept her distance as much as possible knowing full well that Gerhard was still alive and could come after her if Constance ran her mouth.

“How could I forget her?” said Jeritza with a dry tone. “She followed me around the place like she could force us to be friends.”

Mercedes tried not to giggle, “Weren’t you supposed to marry her—”

“Enough,” he said. It was not a sharp reprimand yet for a moment it almost sounded like their father speaking.

“Sorry,” muttered Mercedes. She stared at her plate to keep her eyes averted from him. It was easy to ignore when the conversation was going well that he wasn’t Jeritza and to pretend he was Emile, but then he would inadvertently remind her he was the same person who donned the mask of the death knight to engage in pointless slaughter.

“I have no interest in marriage,” said Jeritza, his tone had gone from aggravation to apathy.

“What are you interested in these days?” Mercedes discreetly tried to watch him.

He became visibly tense and then took a deep breath. His eyes were shut, “I am interested in hearing about your interests.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes. He had never liked talking about himself and had clearly not changed. “Well, let’s see, sewing.” She held out her arm to show off her ruffled sleeve, “I made my dress, any thoughts?”

Jeritza finally turned to look at her and Mercedes felt for the first time in a long time that this was her _brother_ looking at her and not a stranger. “It looks, complicated.”

Mercedes took it as a compliment, “It took months to get the whole thing done, and I had to rush this morning to wear it for an important meeting.” Jeritza’s plate was clean and for a moment she feared he would just get up and go but he continued to sit and listen to her as she went on about her day, at least the nice parts of it, and filled him in on some of the things that had changed in her life since they’d last lived together. She figured if she did this in little steps, someday he might feel comfortable taking the leap to let her in on what had happened to make Emile into Jeritza.

***

The Alliance was pleasantly warm for being so late into Red Wolf Moon, at least to the two Faergheans used to actual cold. Annie and Sylvain exchanged little grins as they passed by Leiscester natives bundled up as if it was about to blizzard. They had reached the county seat of Daphnel, a modest little city down river from Derdriu.

The pair did not get very far before being stopped. The soldiers accosting them were wearing yellow tunics and were the swords first, questions second type. “Hey, hey, easy,” said Sylvain with mild annoyance as a sword came dangerously close to poking his leg.

“Who do you serve?” The question was practically barked.

Sylvain lifted the blanket he had over the head of the Lance of Ruin and the two soldiers that had stopped them immediately stepped back, “Ah, Faerghus?”

“I’m Sylvain Gautier, and this is my associate Annette Dominic,” said Sylvain as he obscured his relic once more. “We’re looking for whoever’s in charge.”

They were taken to the Daphnel estate, a sprawling complex that showcased the immense wealth of the Alliance nobility. Thankfully, when they were received by the head of staff they were immediately diverted to a bath house to clean up. Annie could have sung she was so happy, but she restrained herself to only some enthusiastic humming as she scrubbed.

A bed, a real bed! Annie hugged her plush bathrobe around herself as she flopped down onto the extremely soft mattress in the guest room she’d been given. It was almost too soft after having spent months sleeping on the ground. Annie stared at the ceiling, was she really going to do this? The answer was yes as she grabbed a pillow and got down to lay on the carpet. This was weirdly more comfortable to her. She looked at the bed with longing, “I just have to adjust to the indoors, it’s not you, it’s me.”

After a quick nap Annie got ready. The guest accommodations were very nice considering that she and Sylvain had arrived without warning. Her fingers were drawn to the marble vanity and the selection of makeup there for her use. She hadn’t done her face up since Fhirdiad and she longed to put some on. There was something magical and powerful about being able to choose how she looked.

Annie knew she shouldn’t feel insecure without a little rouge on her cheeks or some kohl to line her eyes, but she felt like when she put it on, this was _her_. This was something she had control over when so many things right now felt so absurdly out of her hands. She liked emphasizing her lips and her eyes and oh my, Annie stared at her eyebrows. She grabbed some tweezers and got to work.

When she was finished, she saw herself in the mirror looking how she liked. She didn’t feel ashamed of how grungy she’d gotten on the road, but, she much preferred looking like this. She got up to assess her clothes. She had one formal outfit that she had worn to meet with Felix’s fancy mother, but now it had been folded up in her bags for months. The wrinkles were going to take some serious steaming to get out. Annie turned her attention to the closet and was met with some aggressively Alliance style clothing.

Could she really pull this off? There was a single dress that approached her small size and thankfully it was not designed for a child but with an adult sensibility. That was one thing that always irked her about being so short, it felt like half the things she put on made her look like she was a toddler digging through her mother’s trunk. The dress in question was a deep navy with gold accents, it seemed the Daphnel’s really loved gold based on their decor, and reminded Annie of the night sky. It was truly lovely and for a moment Annie felt like she was getting ready for a fancy ball and not about to talk about the war. There were some light Almyran influences in the gilded embroidery, nothing too strong, but clearly the closeness of the two countries had influenced each other. It didn’t fit perfectly, but Annette felt very good as she twirled in front of the mirror.

She carefully sorted her own clothing to be laundered and made sure to keep the precious gift of Dedue’s scarf to the side. Annie couldn’t bear the thought of losing it on top of being separated from her friends. She felt like she had a duty to guard it now, to keep it safe, and she would be hand washing that herself.

There was a knocking at her door and Annie opened it to Sylvain, who no longer stank, dressed in similar loaner clothes. They fit him much better than hers did, and looked very stylish. “Annie, you look, _fresh_.”

“Thanks,” said Annette as she adjusted the slipping shoulder of the dress one more time. “You smell nice.” Or rather the absence of smell was nice.

Sylvain laughed and flexed his arms to sniff his pits, “I bet you miss my funk, just a little.” He reached out to ruffle her hair and then stopped himself. Sylvain withdrew his arm and gave her a wink, “Adult, right, not a kid sister.”

“Thank you,” growled Annette, who had just spent a not insignificant time styling her hair.

Sylvain clapped and rubbed his hands together, “Alright, let’s go meet our host—”

“I’m who you’re looking for,” said a fit looking woman walking towards them. She was dressed elegantly in clothes that looked suitable for having a formal dinner followed by a duel to the death. “I’m Judith von Daphnel, now I’m very curious what brings a pair of relic wielding Faergheans this far south without any notice.” Her voice was a touch annoyed, and she looked like she could knock a man out with her jawline alone and not even break a sweat. All in all, she was probably the most simultaneously intimidating and attractive older woman that Annie had ever glimpsed.

Annie gave a quick glance at Sylvain, whose mouth was hanging open as he took Judith’s appearance in. He recovered quickly and smoothed back his hair before extending his hand to shake, “I’m Sylvain Jose Gautier, heir apparent of the Margrave Gautier.” Annette knew that voice, oh no, why was Sylvain attempting to sweet talk their host?

Annie watched as Judith crushed his fingers with her handshake. Judith didn’t look interested in partaking in the Sylvain experience, and she was giving them both a brutal once over, “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Annie intervened before Sylvain’s compulsive flirting got them tossed into a dungeon for not taking a hint, “We’re here to talk about the war and helping you fight the Empire.”

***

Mercedes figured when Hubert asked for a few days, he couldn’t argue that she’d only waited a day and a half since he hadn’t been more specific. She wanted to meet with him before they returned to the Abyss, so on Tuesday evening when Mercedes finished her dinner she began to plan out a strategy for seducing Hubert. 

She started with her closet and finally pulled out the bustier that Dorothea had insisted she take from Hilda’s room. The pale pink fabric didn’t suit Dorothea’s tastes, but it really complimented Mercedes coloration. She looked at it now in the mirror; it was a touch tight, but it was to be worn under her clothes so it wouldn’t be too noticeable. Mercedes selected the uniform skirt she enjoyed wearing least, the style that Petra used to wear, that clung to every curve and ended far too high above her knees. She finished putting on her button up shirt and then paused as she got to the buttons near her chest. She undid a few and stared at her reflection. Mercedes had never worn something so revealing before and for a moment she wanted to throw on a sweater and hide.

Instead, she built her resolve and reached for the lipstick Sylvain had given her, the bold red she didn’t think suited her, and put it on. She brushed her hair out and left it loose. Looking in the mirror she didn't quite feel like herself but she was painfully aware people didn't tend to want her that way. This version, with full red lips and her body on display, seemed more in line with what might stoke some desires. Mercedes swallowed uneasily as a small song in her heart sang with worry that no one was going to want to be with the version of herself she liked best. Her parents warnings that people were only going to be interested in her crest or her body whispered in her ears. Mercedes preferred to hide those things away, but that had gotten her nowhere. It was time to finally show them off. With a brave determination, Mercedes selected a teapot, a blend, and prepared herself to find out what Hubert was made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's Hubert made of?...Blood pudding? _To be continued_  
> 


	22. The Art of Reading Between the Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes attempts to seduce Hubert over tea, while Annette attempts to negotiate with Judith over wine.

Mercedes wasn’t going to wait until midnight because ten seemed plenty late. Hubert answered his office door with a rancid expression and a fistful of papers, “What are you doing here?”

“You said to come by in a few days,” said Mercedes with a smile, while feigning ignorance as to why he’d be upset as she held up her steaming teapot like a peace offering.

“It’s been _one_ ,” said Hubert.

“I counted yesterday,” shrugged Mercedes as she invited herself in. She looked around in surprise at his office, “I thought you’d keep a neater space—”

“I am organized, but I have been a little distracted recently,” huffed Hubert, clearly put off by the interruption of his evening, as he closed the door and followed her towards the coffee table. He attempted to clear away books and loose papers so she would have a spot for the teapot. “Are you going somewhere later?”

Mercedes frowned in confusion, “No, why?”

Hubert’s eyes were looking at her outfit up and down before his gaze snapped back to the table, “I believe I said to meet at midnight, and you’re dressed as if you’re going to go meet with someone else after this.”

At least he was noticing the intentions of her outfit even if he thought it was for someone else’s benefit. Mercedes shook her head and smiled, “No, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” grumbled Hubert as he set back to clearing and cleaning so there would be a spot for her to sit.

She let her eyes trace around as she took in his chaotic workspace. There were piles of books stacked around the room in some obscure organizational pattern and a pile of what appeared to be strange metal disks and schematics for something. He had taken over Seteth’s cork board with all sorts of strange symbols that Mercedes recognized as being vaguely related to dark magic.

“There the table is clear,” announced Hubert as he tried to corral her view to a smaller area.

“Do you have any cream or sugar here?” Mercedes had brought only her teapot, not even cups or saucers. She was always afraid of dropping and breaking the porcelain whenever she was bringing tea anywhere so the less she was carrying, the better.

Hubert begrudgingly handed her one mug, its insides stained with evidence of coffee, “No.”

She looked at the single cup and frowned, “Where’s yours?”

“I’m not taking any,” said Hubert as he continued to pick up odds and ends and stuff them out of sight.

Mercedes furrowed her brow, “But, I picked this blend for you—”

“Why? Everyone knows I do not like tea,” said Hubert, clearly flustered as she passed him the steaming mug.

“You might like this one,” suggested Mercedes. She tried to envision how Sylvain would handle such a situation. He’d probably have a snappy one liner to follow up with, _You might like me_ , or something to that effect. Mercedes decided that wasn’t a gambit she felt comfortable using. “It’s Albinean Berry blend, one of my favorites.”

Hubert took a tiny sip and looked like he’d just sampled sludge. Mercedes pursed her lips and then realized she’d gone a little thick on her lipstick. She quickly abandoned that lest she get stains on her teeth as she pretended to look around, “Do you have any other mugs?” Hubert looked at the one in his hands like he might pass it back to her to enjoy on his behalf, and then sighed and set to searching. He eventually found one that was a little dusty and certainly a leftover from Seteth. Mercedes smiled as Hubert cleaned it out for her, “It’s very lovely, is it part of a set?”

“I have no idea,” muttered Hubert as he eyed her taking a seat on the only cleared couch. The bigger one was currently hosting a number of books and what appeared to be maps and scrolls.

Mercedes felt like this was her moment to shine as she daintily crossed her legs and let herself sink back into the love seat. She stared at him with what she hoped was an alluring gaze while sipping her tea and waiting for him to come join her. To her shock he turned around and went to sit at his desk across the room. Mercedes balked, “There’s plenty of room over here next to me.” Lies. There was only one narrow cushion right next to her. She ran her hand across it to demonstrate just how close they’d be.

“I am more comfortable at my desk,” said Hubert as he focused on pulling certain journals out and hiding others instead of looking at her.

Mercedes narrowed her stare in on him, “Aren’t we supposed to be discussing delicate matters? Won’t shouting across the room be a poor way to keep secrets from escaping?” She let out a small laugh, “You know you don’t have be afraid of getting too close, I promise I’ll only bite if you ask.” Her inner Sylvain hooted and cheered even as she worried she’d definitely taken that too far.

Hubert’s mouth opened as if he had a retort, and then silently closed as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. Mercedes had already been feeling self conscious in her short skirt and with her shirt so open, and Hubert’s current reaction — staring at her like she was speaking a foreign language — wasn’t helping. He looked more confused than turned on. Finally Hubert pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine.”

He had books in one hand and his mug in the other as he cautiously approached the little lounge area near the door to the office. He gave a long look at the seat beside her and the set his things down on the coffee table. Rather than sit next to her, Hubert marched across the room to fetch an arm chair positioned by the fireplace. “I apologize if my office is too warm for you,” said Hubert as he pulled some books from the seat.

“What makes you say that?” She had been unpleasantly frozen on her walk over. Mercedes had been clutching her teapot to herself trying to absorb as much of its sweet warmth as she could. She was actually still a little cold now as her eyes scanned around wishing to find a decorative blanket to steal for her legs since he was ignoring them anyway.

Hubert looked at her, his eyes lingering a second too long upon her cleavage, before he looked away and gestured with a wave of his hand, “You’re dressed like you’re too warm.”

“Oh, this is how I like to dress when I’m off the clock, before I get ready for bed,” said Mercedes as if she often squeezed into Hilda’s pale pink bustier for fun. She tried to stop pulling at her skirt as if that would magically make it longer. Instead she twirled a lock of hair around her finger to distract her free hand. She looked at her teacup and realized she’d left a prominent red lip stain upon it. Hubert began attempting to heave the armchair across the room and Mercedes let out a disapproving sound, “I believe we told you to avoid lifting heavy objects—”

As if to demonstrate her point, Hubert let out a choked little noise of pain as he set the chair back upon the floor. He rubbed at his back as he leaned his forehead against the top of the chair, and Mercedes knew the jig was up. She put away her pitiful attempt at seducing him and got professional, “Hubert, did you just aggravate your injury?” He had probably just strained one of the muscles that was still healing.

“I’m fine,” he insisted through gritted teeth. “I just require a moment.”

Mercedes sighed and set her teacup aside, “I know you haven’t been coming in for your check-ins with Linhardt or Manuela because your name hasn’t been on the chart.”

“I’ve just been too busy to go,” said Hubert as he straightened his posture with a small wince.

“Have you at least been keeping up with taking the vulneraries we gave you?” She came to stand near him and did not miss the way he kept inching back from her as if to maintain a safe distance.

“Here and there,” he said with less confidence.

“May I take a look?” Mercedes began to reach for where his shirt tucked into his waistband.

“I said I was fine, please drop it,” said Hubert as he deftly maneuvered away from her grasps. “This is very inappropriate.”

Mercedes felt a little insulted, “Inappropriate? Hubert this is the job you assigned me. When I leave the infirmary for the day I don’t stop being a healer. Now pull up your shirt and show me your scar.”

“This isn’t necessary,” he grumbled as she trapped him in a corner.

Mercedes ignored him as she went for the bottom of his shirt. It wouldn’t budge, “Why—”

“I wear shirt stays,” said Hubert in a matter of fact sort of way as he plucked her hands up and away from his clothes. “I must look presentable.”

Mercedes put her hands on her hips, “You shouldn’t be wearing anything too tight or restrictive over this area. You could stand to look less than perfect while you’re healing, no one would mind.”

Hubert made a deeply disgruntled sound, “My clothes are the only thing that ever looks right about me.”

Their glares were evenly matched, although Mercedes couldn’t argue that he was wrong. His skin was paler than usual in a sickly sort of way, and it made the dark circles beneath his eyes seem all the worse. No one would look at him and think that he appeared healthy right now, but that wasn’t kind to point out, “Don’t disparage yourself.” Admittedly her shallow desires to try to get into bed with him were expiring; the fact was he’d looked a lot better up close when they’d danced as students, and nearly a year of warfare and terrible injuries had taken their toll.

Mercedes paused to look him up and down and guess at a treatment plan since he wouldn’t show her where he’d been stabbed, “You need more sleep, how many hours are you getting a night?”

“Four, five maybe,” said Hubert off handedly.

“Four! Hubert, you should be getting eight normally, and maybe even ten right now,”

“Ten hours of sleep,” repeated Hubert as if it were the most ridiculous notion he’d ever heard. “How is that even physically possible?”

“People who don’t subsist on coffee seem to manage just fine sleeping late,” said Mercedes with a touch of personal experience.

“I don’t have ten hours to sleep, I barely have four most days, my work does not stop,” said Hubert.

That sent Mercedes over the edge, “Your work will wait, your body won’t.” Arguing wasn’t getting her anywhere and so Mercedes shifted tactics. She liked animals quite a bit, the cuter the better, and in her time caring for everything from kittens to cows Mercedes had learned that trust had to be earned. Hubert was much like an injured animal at the moment, although not an especially adorable one. His instincts were to coil up out of sight and bite whatever came near. Mercedes just had to convince him to let her try to help. She took her hands off her hips and adopted a less aggressive stance with her hands folded. Mercedes did her best to soften her gaze, “Hubert, I know you’re afraid of slowing down, but you can’t serve your emperor from the grave.”

His mouth drew a grim line across his face as she saw him swallow back whatever words he wanted to say. His eyes searched for anywhere in the room to focus but upon her. Mercedes took a deep breath and tucked her hair back behind her ears while wishing she hadn’t left it loose. “You trusted yourself to conscript me as a healer,” said Mercedes. “Now will you let me do that job, and take care of you?” He looked like he wanted nothing more than to send her away until his resolve cracked. The nod he gave her was slow and hesitant as Mercedes gave him a small encouraging smile, “Alright then, please, remove enough to let me see the wounded area. I’ll give you some privacy.”

She could hear him undoing buckles and setting bits to the side as she stood close to the fire. She was quite cold in these clothes and they’d hardly had the effect she was hoping for. To distract herself from the disaster this evening had turned into, Mercedes fixed her attention to the mantle and looked at the little curious objects Hubert had selected to decorate with. There was a little wood figure that at first she mistook for a horse before realizing it had been a pegasus at one time, though its wings were long gone. There was a small portrait of a couple that Mercedes assumed were Hubert’s parents, though the resemblance was weak at best, and what appeared to be a barely used cricket ball.

He was shirtless when she turned back to face him. His twin scars, the lance’s entry and exit, were looking about how she expected; they were still dark and tender looking, and it would be a long time before the lines faded to white. His bruising was still quite painful looking and was a little worrisome to her. If he’d been taking his vulneraries as prescribed he’d probably be feeling much better. Mercedes walked back to get a little throw pillow from the couch for him to rest his head on, “Lie down on your side, and I’ll do some spell work.” She focused on her healing magic and trying to ignore her disappointment at how things had turned out this evening.

Mercedes tried to be upbeat in her tone as she did the simple but repetitive spell. “You should really be relaxing more. You could stand to lighten up a bit from time to time you know.”

His eyes were squeezed shut as she prodded at his bruise. “Will you please refrain from telling me to loosen up? I’ve heard that advice a hundred times and it hasn’t done me any good in figuring out how to actually relax.”

Mercedes felt a little bad for having told him to lighten up on occasion and she knew she was far from the only one casually encouraging him to unwind. Mercedes could read the discomfort on his face, and suspected this was something that had been building up for some time. “Sorry.” Her inner Sylvain added unhelpfully, _Orgasming is very relaxing if you want to try that sometime_. Mercedes was an exceptionally relaxed individual though she didn’t often wonder how she’d come to be like that. It just felt like that’s how she’d been since she fled the Bartels and found safety in the church, “I suppose when I get frustrated I try to think about what I can control, while accepting what I can’t, and trying not to worry about the latter too much.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never been good at accepting defeat,” murmured Hubert. She could see his green eyes flashing to study her as discretely as possible.

“Not defeat,” said Mercedes carefully, “I just try my best to be happy in whatever circumstances I find myself in, because I prefer being happy when I can.”

“Circumstances like getting stuck here?”

Mercedes said nothing because he’d managed to hit the nail on the head. She was trying to be at peace with her present and to make the most of her current lot and focusing upon the good she could do. She had been attempting to take advantage of the rare opportunity to scratch an intimate itch, which was an exciting change of pace, but as Mercedes looked at his wound and knew such relations would not be happening tonight.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured.

“Oh, sorry,” said Mercedes as she realized she left them to linger on his skin when the spell was through.

“Thank you for the healing, my back feels much better than it did,” said Hubert with a touch of reticence to his words.

“Well I’m not surprised, you strained this muscle here,” she said as she traced her fingertips along the bottom of his back scar. “Maybe try lifting with your knees, especially while you heal.” She felt him tensing up beneath her touch and a tiny grin formed on her lips, “Hubert, are you, are you ticklish?”

She’d never seen a man move so fast to get away from her at that accusation. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He moved quickly to get his shirt back on, though she was happy to see him not bothering with all the little accoutrements like waist stays and cuff links. “Do you want a sweater?”

“Hmm?” Mercedes looked up in confusion.

“You’ve got gooseflesh all over your legs, and your hands were freezing, would you like to borrow a sweater?”

“Yes please,” conceded Mercedes as she tried to discretely button up her shirt all the way. “If you have a blanket I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Mercedes soon found herself sitting in a large warm sweater she recognized as the one Hubert had received while in the infirmary, and an old quilt over her legs. They stayed on the floor by the fireplace for the light and the heat, and possibly to avoid the closeness of the love seat. Mercedes filled their mugs with more tea though Hubert was barely drinking any. She was glad she picked a blend she liked since she was doing most of sipping.

Hubert had his arms crossed as he leaned against his armchair looking at all the books. “The exchange you overheard down in the Abyss, that there are things called Agarthans, or those which slither in the dark, is a sensitive topic. What is discussed here cannot leave this room, for your own safety.” He picked up the fake _Encyclopedia of Foldlan Insects_ , which Mercedes noted was now filled with little book marks, “This group is a poison, an infestation, and I am trying to find out how deep their influence runs.”

“Are these the mages who took my brother?” asked Mercedes; that was the mystery she was most invested in.

“I believe so,” said Hubert.

“He said he was taken to punish his father for participating in the Hrym rebellion, which,” Mercedes paused as she wondered what Hubert’s reaction would be to her charge, “Which means the Empire was cooperating with these Agarthans in some official capacity.” Hubert just nodded and sighed. Mercedes felt a cool fear clutching at her chest as she thought about Hubert’s own dark mage battalion, and her brother’s place in the army, “Is the Empire still working with them?”

“They fund this war,” said Hubert in a cool, quiet tone. “The have been plotting to overthrow the church of Seiros for years.”

Mercedes wasn’t used to feeling so much despair as she thought about the dark mage down in Abyss and her possible connections to Duscar. It meant the seeds of this war were planted long ago. “But why?”

“That’s what I’m trying to understand,” said Hubert as he gestured out to all the books he’d gathered. “For a long time I assumed they were a recent antagonist, interested in power and wealth. The more I find however, the older they seem to be and less I realize I know about what they want.” He looked at the stacks of volumes as if they were an army he was facing alone, “That pagan statue in Abyss is strange, and the dark mage called it one of the slither’s gods. So that’s what I’m trying to understand now.”

Mercedes nodded, “How can I help?”

Hubert passed her a book, “Here, I tried to pick the books that might have some historical information on the church, and perhaps clues on what’s in the Abyss.”

“ _Romance of the World’s Perdition_ ,” Mercedes read the title of the ancient looking volume aloud. “Sounds dramatic. Anything in particular I should be searching for?”

“Any mentions of a place called Thinis, or gods other than Sothis.” Hubert had his own big book and a journal out for notes.

They slipped into silence as both read until finally Mercedes got to an exciting passage, “Oh here it is, Thinis.” She cleared her throat, “In the land of Thinis, where the old gods are said to live, the false god has awakened.”

Hubert edged closer to look at the page over her shoulder. She became keenly aware of his proximity as he got close enough for her to hear him rereading passages under his breath. Mercedes continued, “Its looming, heteromorphic vessel was _resurrected_ to sink the world to the depths of the ocean.” She paused, “Resurrection? I think if the goddess was resurrected I would have heard about it.”

Hubert’s hand had come to trace a picture on the page of what looked like hooded monks making an offering to an elaborate cup, “This is the Chalice of Beginnings. It was a failed attempt to bring the goddess back to life, perhaps this book was written before that event?”

“Maybe the slithers sabotaged it,” suggested Mercedes as she wondered about the identities of the people in the picture. Whatever this story was, it hadn’t made the standard issue books of Seiros. She continued to read, “The children of men fled to the depths of the earth, beyond the sight of the false god—”

Hubert’s brow furrowed as he got closer to the book to read over the passage again, “The depths of the earth, and beyond sight.”

Mercedes leaned back a little and into him just to test what he might do. Hubert immediately recoiled from her body as he grabbed his journal to write something down. It was not the sort of reaction that suggested he wanted their bodies to touch. So much for seducing him. Mercedes got back to the book, “Maybe it means the Abyss, that would explain why the statue is down there.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the Abyss and why it’s so confusing in its layout, and I think I’ve figured it out. They’re not tunnels, not originally,” said Hubert as he scribbled something down.

Mercedes raised one of her eyebrows, “What else would they be?”

“Streets,” said Hubert as his intense stare snapped up to meet hers. He tapped his pencil on his notebook, “I actually got the idea when you and I were walking together down there, and how much it felt like walking through Enbarr. The Abyss is not a city that grew underground, it was a city paved over to build the monastery. That’s the best explanation I have for why it’s such a maze.”

“The Red Canyon is within walking distance of the monastery,” said Mercedes. “That was the site of Zanado, the city where, well, where Nemesis is said to have killed Sothis, and her children.” She paused and scratched at her chin, “That doesn’t explain why there’s a massive pagan idol down there.” She herself had been extremely curious as to how that mysterious statue had gotten there. It seemed like it would be a tremendous pain to move and must have been placed quite deliberately.

“There are people who call Sothis a false god, which implies they believe there were true gods here before,” said Hubert carefully. “It also implies humans were here before the goddess.”

Mercedes felt a slight frown on her face, “That contradicts the book of Seiros, part two actually.” If Mercedes knew anything, it was the scriptures, backwards and forwards. She could quote them like nobody’s business, “She breathed life into the world and created all of the creatures upon it.”

“I don’t think that’s the only lie hidden in the books of Seiros,” said Hubert with a dismissive tone.

Mercedes held up _Romance of the World’s Perdition_ , “And who says this is the truth?” He didn’t have answer for her. Mercedes sighed, “Well. If your hypothesis that the Abyss was paved over to build the monastery is correct, then I don’t think the children of men fled there. They must have gone somewhere else, presumably taking their sculptures with them.”

Hubert frowned though he revealed little else of what was going on inside his head. “Maybe Nemesis didn’t leave once he sacked the place. Maybe another city grew up in the bones of the old one until Seiros came to reclaim this land.”

“Garreg Mach is almost 1000 years old,” said Mercedes as she began to page through her book. She had been looking forward to the millennium festival, but she had a feeling it was indefinitely postponed. “The Empire is 1181 years old, so there was a significant gap between when Seiros claimed this spot and when she allied with the first emperor.”

“Wilhelm the first,” said Hubert as he got up and got one the large maps. He rolled it out on the floor and rubbed at his temples as he looked at the locations, “Seiros arrived in Enbarr about forty years before the founding of the Empire. It couldn’t have been a city then, since our oldest ruins are from around that time.” His finger traced from Enbarr to the Red Canyon, “She killed Nemesis in 91, but Zanado must have fallen to him _before_ she went to Enbarr, but that doesn’t make sense, he’d have to be at minimum 150 years old for that to work—”

“Well Seiros has clearly lived for at least a thousand years, that makes a 150 year old Nemesis look like a spring chicken,” said Mercedes as she started to scan her book.

Hubert was staring at the map and tapping his pencil to his lips. He was about to say something when the clock tower emitted a series of bongs. It kept going and going until twelve had passed. They’d been at this for almost two hours. Mercedes stretched and yawned, as a last idea to salvage things popped into her head, “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Hubert looked up from his journal in surprise. “Oh, are you leaving already?”

“Did we not discuss you sleeping more, you should go to bed soon too,” chided Mercedes. “Besides shouldn’t you escort me back to my room?”

“I thought you said that you could handle yourself down in Abyss, I don’t think me escorting you would make much of a difference,” said Hubert as he watched her getting up to fold the quilt she suspected he slept under most nights camped out among all these books.

“Yes but there are soldiers on patrol and it would be unfortunate for me to explain where I was coming from. Who knows what conclusions they might draw when I tell them General von Vestra summoned me to his office so late in the night and then turned me away alone into the dark once he was done with me—”

“Are you black mailing me into walking you to your dorm?”

“No, I’m black mailing you so that you get more than four hours of sleep,” said Mercedes with a wink. “Is it working?” Hubert grumbled as he put away the map and the notes and Mercedes gathered her now empty cold teapot and prepared to leave.

The walk back was absolutely freezing and Mercedes was grateful for the loaner sweater as she hugged her arms around herself. There was a sizable gap between them as they strolled in an awkward silence. Hubert had his eyes up on the exceptionally clear sky. “Do you enjoy star gazing?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever done it formally. I like stars but, I usually just make up my own shapes and stories,” said Mercedes. She could never remember her creations exactly night to night; they were usually playing out whatever recent ghost story she’d comforted herself with.

“I used to know more constellations when I was a child,” admitted Hubert. He pointed towards the East, “There’s the great scholar dragon, he was always my favorite.” His finger traced to the horizon, “And King Loog, there, rising up from the north.” Hubert pointed up to a cluster of stars in the West, “And that one is the lovers.”

Mercedes stared at the area and wondered what shape she was supposed to see, “Dare I ask what it’s supposed to look like?”

“My uncle Al described it as ‘you see what you want’,” whispered Hubert. “It took me a long time growing up to finally understand what he meant.”

Mercedes gave a tight lipped smile as she considered what he’d said back in the infirmary when he was hopped up on concoctions, “And what do you see?”

Hubert tensed up at such a question, “I see nothing at all.”

“Really, so no lovers for the fearsome General von Vestra?” probed Mercedes.

He cleared his throat, “No. If I did have one I’d risk only getting three hours of sleep a night, and someone warned me not to do that.”

“That’s generous, you’d probably get three and half,” teased Mercedes as they reached her door. He lingered awkwardly staring at her and Mercedes felt a small rush in her chest as she wondered if her last ditch effort was working, “What is it?”

“I would like my sweater back, Ms. Von Martritz,” said Hubert deftly as he let his stare go down to their feet.

“Oh, right, of course,” said Mercedes as she rushed to get it off and back to him. As soon as he had it he was murmuring a good night and making a quick escape. Mercedes shivered and got into her chilly room. She swore her bed felt extra cold as she settled in for the night as if it was mocking her.

***

Dinner at the Daphnel estate was served in a massive dining room for just the three of them. Annette wished she could use Silence to shut Sylvain up but she was doing her best to handle the conversation.

“We can always use the help, especially from crested warriors with relics,” said Judith as Annette reiterated their offer to battle on the side of the Alliance. “The Empire is stronger to the south, the north half is _still_ recovering from the Dagda invasion, so I’m not surprised they’re focusing on us first. Duke Riegan is rallying our troops even though Claude made a good case for staying neutral. The fact is, we don’t have much choice but to fight.”

“Have you been in contact with Duke Blaiddyd?” Annette was hopeful that maybe there could be a combining of forces beyond just her and Sylvain.

Judith shook her head and drank some wine, “Not since the initial attack on Garreg Mach, but Duke Fraldarius has been in touch.”

“Oh, we need to contact Rodrigue,” said Sylvain, as he finally got serious and stopped openly ogling their host. “We have some information on the whereabouts of Prince Dimitri.”

“He’s alive?” clarified Judith with interest as she watched her guests’ faces. “Is he well?”

Annette and Sylvain stole some not subtle glances at each other as Judith leaned forward with her elbows right on the table. Annie supposed it was Judith’s house and she set the etiquette rules, although she would give just about anything to make their host less intimidating. Judith had a fist in front of her mouth as she engaged them in a staring contest that she was clearly winning.

Annie broke first, “He’s uh, well, he’s out there fighting even when the kingdom won’t!” _Nice save Dominic_.

“Claude didn’t speak too highly of the prince’s performance when the monastery was falling. He suggested Dimitri stopped leading his house, contributing to greater confusion,” said Judith carefully.

Annette swallowed uneasily at the truth as Sylvain took over, “Dimitri is goal oriented.” He straightened up in his chair, “That’s actually why we’re here. As you know, Duke Blaiddyd hasn’t exactly been quick to take a stance in this war. Prince Dimitri on the other hand is very much against the Empire and their actions. Our friend Ingrid Galatea holds you, the Great Warrior of Daphnel, in very high regard. We decided that Ingrid would stay with Dimitri and Annie, I mean Annette, and I made the trip to appeal to you to see if we could join forces.”

A lie, but a good one. Annie nodded enthusiastically, “Our families are afraid to go against the orders coming out of Fhirdiad, but we’re not. We know if the Alliance falls our homes are next, and we can’t let that happen.”

“So why didn’t you all travel together?” Judith sipped her wine and looked at them with suspicion.

“Dimitri thinks we shouldn’t be waiting around for the Empire to attack, he actually led a successful raid on the monastery,” said Annette. It was kind of true, he had at least triggered one.

Sylvain made a sound of agreement. “Yeah. Dimitri is holding a strategic location near the Empire’s forces.” That sounded much better than camping in a cave. “I think if we could get Duke Fraldarius on board with your troops, we could attack Garreg Mach while they’re sitting tight for the winter.”

Judith let out a contemptuous laugh, “I’m not trying to storm Garreg fucking Mach in the winter. That’s not smart.”

“The Empire succeeded in attacking during Lone Moon,” said Annette somberly. “We don’t have to hit them while they’re behind the walls, but when the Emperor goes to leave to continue waging war, that’s when we should strike.” The sooner they could liberate Mercedes and Felix, the better.

“How do you know the Emperor is at the monastery and not down at Fort Merceus with the rest of her army?”

“Because we saw her right hand man take a lance in the back,” said Sylvain. “Hubert is always close to Edelgard. She’s definitely at Garreg Mach, and if the rest of the army is down at Merceus, well then she’s not well protected is she?”

“Oh, I’m familiar with Hubert,” said Judith with a sour expression. “Did he die?”

Annette swallowed uneasily as she remembered the dark magic Hubert had sent her way. She _wished_ he was dead, now that they were a safe distance from the monastery, but things really hadn’t been going her way, “We don’t know, but he was losing a lot of blood after we were through with him.” It was best to make it seem like the rag tag Blue Lions were leading successful assaults on Imperial patrols, not sneaking around the woods in confusion.

Judith smirked with approval at the news and motioned for her servants to clear their plates away. “I’ll tell you what, send your message to Rodrigue and see if you can get him here. I’ll send a message to Claude. Then we’ll talk strategy when we know what we’re working with.” Judith got up and wiped her mouth with a napkin, “Until then, I suppose you are guests of the Daphnel estate.” She raised up what was left in her glass as a toast, “To the descendants of the ten Elites working together once more, may we knock the crown from that tyrant’s head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all have a little inner Sylvain giving us bad flirting advice from time to time...


	23. An Annual Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost a year following their initial dance at the ball, Hubert and Mercedes share a different sort of dance.

Mercedes’ scent lingered ever so slightly upon the sweater and Hubert knew he was crossing a line as he subtly buried his nose into the wool, but he couldn’t help how comforting it felt to breathe the last of her in. Admittedly he thought she looked much nicer in it than he did, but she had a point about not wearing restrictive garments over his wound. He tried not to let him mind wander to her healing hands upon him or how it had felt to have her body leaning back into his as they read the same book. _Put your emotions in line, or you’ll be the drooling simpleton Dorothea thinks you are._ He was allowing himself to get too familiar with her and he had to focus on not reading too much into her every word and glance. It was wish fulfillment to think her behavior was anything more than her normal bright and kind self. _You’re everything she hates, stop reading into things that aren’t there._

Fortunately he had plenty to distract himself with. His office had gotten out of control between forbidden books and coded missives, golem parts and Agarthan gifts. An unpleasant Slither message had arrived this morning and Edelgard was sitting at Hubert’s desk as he cleaned, her brows knit in consternation as she reread the note. “I apologize that this is happening,” muttered the Emperor for the third time.

Arundel was on his way to Garreg Mach with Hubert’s grandmother. The letter in Edelgard’s hands, sent by messenger ahead of their arrival indicated they were somewhere in the Varley lands imposing upon the house arrested Count. Arundel was giving them a scant few days notice of his arrival, all so they could prepare Rhea’s chambers for his accommodations. Hubert was loathe to think about what Arundel was going to get up to in there. They also had to clear it of anything potentially important, and so Dorothea and Petra were presently searching for hidden compartments and any personal belongings of the Archbishop.

Apparently Arundel had gotten word about the massacre and the things that had come out of the Abyss, and was keenly interested in anything recovered from the bowels of the monastery. Already Hubert’s dark mage battalion had seemed to double in size overnight and taken over the sealed forest as the base of their operations. At least they were off campus. Meanwhile attacks on patrols in the woods had ceased and Hubert wondered if perhaps Dimitri was on the move.

Hubert was trying hard not to think about Agatha trapped for weeks in a carriage with the regent. “I wish you had consulted with me before ordering her here,” said Hubert softly as he stacked books based upon their contents. The one he was holding now, was it history or religion? He decided it could have its own pile. The tall towers of books were beginning to look like a little fortress building up around him.

“I have questions about my mother and my father that I do not feel comfortable committing to letters. It seemed the best choice at the time. I never thought Arundel would just invite himself here,” said Edelgard. She was exploring his desk with her eyes and straightening his pens and inkwells. Her fingers idly lifted a journal cover. She stared for a while at the page, “Hubert, what is this?”

Hubert looked up and felt caught, “I have been transcribing everything I can remember about your family, my lady.”

Edelgard paused and stared at him with a difficult to read expression. She looked again at the journal, now with trepidation, “May I?”

“Please, it’s intended for your eyes only,” said Hubert as he returned to his sorting. He was adding to the journal little by little, night after night after Edelgard retired and took her sleeping potions. She was refusing them more often, but he was not sure her dreams of the past brought her much comfort. After she retired for the evening he would come to his office to work late into the night and more often than not he found himself waking on his couch. Last night had been an exception and he was feel better after getting a whopping seven hours of sleep.

“Ionius, Emmerich, Adelheid. Ernst and Justine, Conrad, Friedrich, and Helena, little Liesel, and Dietrich,” murmured Edelgard as she read off her siblings names in the order of their birth. “I remember Liesel, she’s the clearest of them.”

“I know,” said Hubert as he got up to join her at his desk.

“Why are you doing this?” Edelgard had begun to read through the pages, filled with every story he could remember from fantastic to mundane. It was camping trips, and beach holidays, magic lessons and games played in the garden. Every single thing he could possibly give her he was adding into that leather bound book. Some of the stories he’d never told her before because they seemed too insignificant, but he now treated everything with reverence in the hopes she might get a shred of it back if she read it.

“In case something should happen to me, I would like for you to retain as many of these stories as possible,” said Hubert before taking a seat across from her.

Edelgard swallowed, looking shaken by his motivation, but did not insult him with empty promises that nothing bad would happen to him. They both knew full well what this war might mean for them. Edelgard’s crests made her strong and resilient, but they also were volatile and could collapse inside her bringing out the anomaly that had destroyed all her precious siblings and made them blurry smears within her mind. In Hubert’s case, he would always retreat when things got too difficult on the battlefield, but he could not outrun the damage to his body wrought by his own magic. They were two hour glasses with no hopes of being turned over.

“Do you keep a journal for yourself?” Edelgard shut the book and leaned back in the cushy desk chair to watch him.

Hubert smiled softly, “I keep daily logs, but do I strike you as the type to trust my secrets to a page?”

“They don’t have to be secrets, they could be hopes,” said Edelgard as she returned his smile.

“My hopes _are_ secrets,” said Hubert. His hope that Edelgard would not turn into the things that her siblings had become, the desire for a quick end to this war, and the new building need to have Mercedes hands on him were his heart’s all consuming secrets.

“I wish you didn’t keep them all from me,” whispered Edelgard as her smile faded.

“They’re trivial,” promised Hubert. “Hardly worth your attention.”

“I don’t think that’s true, I wish in private you would not hold me at arm’s length any longer,” said Edelgard, her lips turning now to a slight frown. “You are my closest friend and yet I fear I know so little about you sometimes.”

“You know me,” said Hubert. She knew what she needed to know. His secrets, his troubles really, did feel truly trivial in the face of hers. Yes he had lost people in the Insurrection that he missed every day, but he had not watched his family tortured or gone under the Agarthan’s knives himself. “You know my loyalty, and that is what matters most in these times.”

Edelgard sighed, “It’s been freeing to share things with Dorothea, and Petra—”

Hubert winced, “Please be careful with what you divulge.” He was grateful she was slowly opening up to others but he hoped her trust was not misplaced. He also felt like a massive hypocrite as he attempted to contain who she shared her secrets with when he was daring to enlist the likes of Ferdinand and Mercedes into his own investigations. However, it felt less risky to slowly expose the Slithers than to tell everyone that Edelgard had the potential to snap into a sort of demonic beast under the right amount of pressure. They had relied greatly on exposing Rhea’s true form for getting people to back their cause and Hubert had a feeling their shaky allies would not be too accepting of the potential monster lurking inside the Emperor.

“I’m sharing idle things, not big secrets,” said Edelgard. “I showed them my sketches.”

“And?”

“They were well received,” said Edelgard as she knit her fingers together. She drew everyone, whether they knew it or not, so that she would not forget their faces like her family members’ features. Edelgard was modest about her artistic abilities and easily embarrassed when praised, so it must have been a big step for her to share those. It was nice to her at ease around others for the first time in years.

“Well I am pleased you are making more friends,” said Hubert. “Maybe they’ll share their little secrets so I don’t have to share mine.”

An amused look crossed Edelgard’s face, “Well I did hear the most interesting rumor about you.”

Hubert’s eyes bulged slightly before narrowing in on her, “Dare I ask?”

“I heard from Manuela that you’re having love trouble,” said Edelgard with a surprisingly smug little grin as if to suggest she had evidence Hubert von Vestra was human after all.

Hubert shut his eyes and wished a pox on Manuela. “That is quite a rumor. Unbelievable really.”

Edelgard let out a quiet laugh, “Is it now? It would be a shame if the Emperor had to order her Minister of the Imperial Household to tell her the contents of his heart.”

“I have loved only a handful of people in my life, and only a precious few are still with me,” said Hubert with a soft honesty. “And as I expect you know, that includes you.”

Edelgard gestured to the journal of his memories for her, “I know.” She paused and looked mischievous, “Though if there was someone who’d finally caught your eye, I would hope I’d be the first to know.”

Hubert thought of Mercedes and how completely foolish she made him feel, “No, there’s no one.” He straightened up and decided a subject change was the safest course of action. “I’ll be descending to the Abyss this evening to meet with Yuri again. I have concerns for some individuals that don’t wish to come to the surface, especially if Arundel is intent on snooping around.”

“Perhaps we need a diversion to keep him distracted,” said Edelgard as she gave a glance to the map of the monastery grounds hanging on his wall. “What do you suppose all his mages are getting up to in the Sealed Forest?”

“Nothing good,” said Hubert quietly as he joined her in staring at the map. The Sealed Forest was large and expansive and like so many features of the monastery it was never explained why it was off limits. When the Black Eagles had followed Byleth into battle there Hubert had seen the remnants of golems, suggesting either a massive battle or perhaps a training ground of sorts. Then there was the ruin the strange platform where Solon had performed the Spell of Zahras to seal Byleth into the darkness. It made Hubert wonder if it was not a place that was important to the church at all, but perhaps had been sacred to another group.

“Ferdinand has been lecturing at me on demonic beasts and false crest stones,” said Edelgard as she snapped Hubert from his musings. “It would be a great shame if some of your battalion were to turn. It might make them think twice about pushing such a strategy.”

Hubert vividly recalled watching Miklan turn and twist in response to the glowing Lance of Ruin. It made Hubert sick imagining Edelgard someday transforming in the same manner into something even more terrible. The idea of punishing Arundel’s hand picked engineers was similarly revolting, but it would send a message. “We’d have to sneak in and crack the false stones. It’s very dangerous but I’m sure I can—”

“You don’t touch them under any circumstances, do you understand?” said Edelgard, her words sharp and leaving no room for disobedience. “This needs to be handled by someone with a crest. I’d say it seems like a task suited to Jeritza. He’ll relish the opportunity I’m sure.”

Hubert nodded, and thought briefly to Mercedes’ concerns about the dark mages that took her brother. He knew Edelgard knew something, though she was tight lipped on all thing Death Knight related. He suspected it had less to do with a true need to keep secrets, and more the discomfort of sharing a similar experience. She had been made into a weapon, much like Jeritza, and speaking on such things was naturally difficult. It had taken Edelgard years to open up and explain the experiments to Hubert, and with that in mind he allowed his caution to flood his voice, “Do you know what it was they did to him?”

Edelgard’s violet eyes came to meet his as she stood, “I suggest you do not poke too much at Jeritza’s past. Just know he hates Arundel as much as you and I and he will enjoy this mission.”

“Of course your majesty,” said Hubert as he got up from his chair to bow as Edelgard made her exit. He secretly wished he could uncover something worthwhile to take to Mercedes, if only to endear himself to her. _That’s a poor plan, she might shoot the messenger. Remember, she’s a prisoner and not your friend._

***

The Wilted Rose tavern was dingy and crowded, which was encouraging to Mercedes. It meant the people of Abyss cared to hear what the little group of surface dwellers had to say. Mercedes accepted another drink since this round was on Ferdinand; the tavern served two options, light or dark ale. Since the dark ale had tasted as thick as a stew, Mercedes was sticking with the light option even as Ferdinand and Dorothea kept with the stronger choice consumed at a faster pace.

“Are you sure you do not want anything Hubert?” Ferdinand was eager for his chance to speak to a crowd and to flex his burgeoning political muscles. He’d prepared little talking points and was practically vibrating off his stool with excitement.

“I’m sure,” repeated Hubert as his eyes scanned the crowd.

“Have you ever drank before?” Dorothea was there to rein in Ferdinand if need be.

“Once, I didn’t care for it,” said Hubert as stiffly as possible. “Besides, someone needs to be responsible for you three.”

Ferdinand scoffed, “We are being responsible, we do not need a sitter.”

Mercedes gently covered Hubert’s hand on the bar top to stop him from sniping at Ferdinand. She thought she saw his neck flush in the dim light as he silently withdrew to clasp his hands behind his back. It worked though, and he passed on his chance to get in a retort.

Mercedes for her part was enjoying her second free drink and also excited for things to get started. She saw Yuri come in and almost immediately Hubert abandoned his charges to go talk to the mysterious lord of the underground. Mercedes’ eyes followed them as they slipped into the back of the tavern and away from prying ears.

Mercedes touched Ferdinand lightly on the shoulder, “I’m going to go help Hubert, just remember your talking points and don’t make any promises we can’t keep. You’ll do great!”

“Hubert went off already?” Ferdinand looked disappointed as he looked around for the mage. The meeting was about to begin.

Dorothea rolled her eyes, “He’s smart, getting out before you start talking.”

Mercedes hoped Dorothea would not be too mean to Ferdinand, but she was concerned that Hubert’s manner was about to sabotage all their hard work. Mercedes began to walk towards the back of the tavern and quietly slipped inside a poorly lit store room. She snuck as quietly as she could towards the two men talking among the shelves of dry goods.

“You told me when last we met not to bring certain _shit_ down here, well, that shit is paying a visit.” Hubert was looming over Yuri and appearing extra serious in his military jacket. “We are working on a distraction, but in the event that it fails, it would be prudent to move people to a safer location during the visit.”

“This sounds like a trap, and not even a clever one,” challenged Yuri. “You just want to clear everyone out and then fully shut the place—”

“I am trying to protect your people,” hissed Hubert.

As she crept closer, Mercedes knocked over a bushel of onions and spilled her tankard of beer all over herself and the floor. Mercedes looked down at her dripping wet skirt and grimaced; she was glad she’d gone with her plain military medic uniform to distinguish who she was here with rather than her fine ruffled dress. She froze as both men’s rapt attention turned toward her. Mercedes felt her face burning with embarrassment that she’d just bumbled her way to discovery, “Oh, um, hello.”

Yuri’s demeanor changed from threatening to friendly, though Mercedes sensed mistrust behind his eyes, “Mercie. So good to see you again. Perhaps you can shed some light on this plan of Hubie’s here.” Mercedes could see Hubert’s nostril’s flaring at the use of Dorothea’s nickname. Yuri smiled, “He’d like to pull all my people out of here because surprise, something bad might happen if they stay.”

“Well, that’s true,” improvised Mercedes as she walked to join them. “It will be very dangerous down here while the tunnels are being sealed. Besides, it’s an excellent opportunity to get everyone to have a hearty meal and get checked out by our healers.”

“We’ll be working in shifts around the clock to ensure this is finished as quickly as possible,” promised Hubert. “They won’t be put out for long, and they’ll be easier to protect if everyone is accounted for and on the surface. We can house people who don’t want to go to the village temporarily in the barracks.” Mercedes gave an enthusiastic nod though Yuri looked far from convinced. Hubert sighed and folded his arms, “Unless you’d rather try to protect them without our help.”

Mercedes noted the way in which Yuri’s posture straightened aggressively. His hand brush against the hilt of his sword, “We were fine before you started poking around—”

“If that were true you wouldn’t have required the house leaders and Professor Byleth to save you from that mad monk,” said Hubert. “The artifact he was using, the Chalice of Beginnings, I know it _disappeared_ but I suspect that is what our visitors are seeking. It would be a great shame for them to find it.”

Yuri suppressed a growl, “You want me to just fork it over to you? Rhea ordered me to get rid of it.”

“I am working on a distraction from my end, but I would appreciate it if that blasted thing wasn’t left out in the open,” said Hubert.

Mercedes felt hopelessly lost as she listened. She knew the Chalice was depicted in the book she’d been reading the night before, but she was much more interested in this mad monk business. Unfortunately Yuri was especially irate over whatever was really going on here. “I’ll take care of it,” said Yuri in a huff as he pushed past them to leave the store room.

Mercedes set her now sadly empty tankard on a shelf and looked at Hubert, “Care to share what’s going on?”

He looked down at her and then at the door; the room was desolate. “One of our Slithery friends is paying a visit to Garreg Mach shortly, and I believe he is interested in looting this place while we close it. If my assertion that this was an ancient city is correct, there may be more than suspicious statues down here.”

Mercedes looked in the direction that Yuri had walked off in, “Well then, I can’t really blame him for being frightened.”

“You think he’s scared?” Hubert looked at her in disbelief.

“You’ve come in with the backing of an army, he doesn’t really have much choice but to follow your orders,” said Mercedes as she began to wring the beer out of her skirt. She wasn’t sure if she ought to mop up; the floor was already pretty wet and it was hard to tell where her ale ended and the natural dripping ambiance of the Abyss began. “What’s he going to do? Make a last stand against Adrestia?”

Hubert frowned as if he’d never considered Yuri might actually be afraid and not just non-compliant as he watched her lifting her skirts. Mercedes felt a little rise of heat in her cheeks at how he was watching her, “Excuse me this is not a show.” He had his chance to look at her legs when she’d put them on display, not when she was wearing her warm and embarrassingly matronly bloomers that went down past her knees.

Hubert’s eyes suddenly found something very interesting on the ceiling to focus upon. Mercedes decided perhaps her seduction wasn’t as foolish as she had felt the night previous as she popped a few buttons open in her uniform blouse while he wasn’t looking. “This thing is very stifling, no wonder the strike force has collectively decided not to wear their uniforms.”

Hubert said nothing but she did not the path of his eyes from the ceiling, to her cleavage, and then hastily up to her eyes. Loud music suddenly drifting into the storeroom and caused both their heads to turn. They could hear Dorothea and Ferdinand singing together. Hubert looked positively exasperated, “This is supposed to be a community meeting not a barn ball—”

“A barn ball? You don’t have be rude,” said Mercedes, feeling a little resentful towards the phrase.

“I’m not being rude, that’s what it’s called,” said Hubert as he walked towards the main room of tavern.

“That’s what nobles call it, because they’re comparing commoners to animals that live in a barn,” snapped Mercedes. “We call it a social, thank you very much.”

“I-I was not insinuating that I think you are an animal,” said Hubert, clearly mortified by her charge.

“Even if it wasn’t on purpose, that’s what it feels like to hear that,” said Mercedes. She linked arms with him, “Come Mr. Scarecrow, this cow would like to see what’s happening.”

“I didn’t call you a cow,” sputtered Hubert as she led him back into the tavern. A full on circle dance was dominating the floor. “What the hell is happening here?”

“I’d say the meeting is going well,” said Mercedes with a nod to the beat of the tune. People didn’t dance like this when they were angry.

Hubert was quick to pull Ferdinand to the side. Ferdinand nearly fell over he was so unstable from drinking, “Hubert! Fantastic news, we have come to an understanding with the people of the Abyss.”

“How—”

“I gave my speech, and then fielded some real challenging questions with ease,” beamed Ferdinand. “And then Dorothea wanted to show our common ground by starting a dance!”

Dorothea, at the bar, toasted her tankard at Hubert, “Hubie, trust me, your suggestions were too stiff. We handled it, now we’re celebrating. They’re going to start moving up to the village as soon as tomorrow.”

“We’re not set up for that,” started Hubert. His voice was full of frustration and a blood vessel was bulging at the side of his head.

“We can hurry, it’ll be fine, this is wonderful,” gushed Mercedes as she clapped her hands with delight. “This is what we wanted, their trust and cooperation.”

“I suppose,” said Hubert as he looked around the tavern turned dance floor. Tables had been rolled out of the way and now lined the walls. “Then I guess we can go.”

Ferdinand looked aghast, “Leave a party when it has just started? Hubert, no.”

“Loosen up Hubie,” suggested Dorothea. Mercedes watched him flinch and then frown as he marched himself to one of the stools in the corner to sit and wait things out. Mercedes sighed and figured there was no helping his mood as she focused instead on enjoying the impromptu social.

Mercedes knew this type of dancing well because she had done it almost every Friday night in the church growing up. It was raucous and dizzying and definitely not a waltz. The instruments were not the beautiful finely crafted strings and woodwinds that the orchestra had played at the Ethereal Moon ball back when they were students. These were heirloom fiddles and improvised percussive implements, with plenty of hoots and hollers. The stomping feet on the tavern floor were just as much a part of the song as the lutes and bone flutes.

Mercedes found herself clapping to the beat of the tune for a long while until Dorothea offered her hand as a partner. Mercedes eagerly accepted; this was the first time someone had actually asked her to dance in years. The two women took the floor, turning and spinning only as those who had done this sort of dance too many times before could manage. Mercedes had learned a Faerghus style, and Dorothea had an Enbarr flair to her movements, yet overall the core of their dancing was the same. Mercedes melted into Dorothea’s lead as the singer added her voice to the whooping cheers that punctuated the rambunctious atmosphere.

“I’m glad you know this dance,” laughed Dorothea with a highly tipsy air bordering upon flat out drunk.

“I’m flattered you asked,” smiled Mercedes. Much like the ball a year before Mercedes felt like her desired dance partner options were limited, though this time she felt loads more comfortable joining in. “You surely have your pick of the floor.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes, “Some good it does me.” She gave a pointed stare in Ferdinand’s direction, “Who I’m lusting after rarely matches with those lusting back.”

Mercedes had never been close with Dorothea in school because she had Annie to confide in before she turned to anyone else. Her interest was piqued though by the comment as she thought about the way in which Dorothea had relentlessly flirted with Ingrid. Ingrid had taken it in stride until she finally blew up about it. While Mercedes thought Ingrid had been unkind in her rejection, Dorothea should have probably backed off months before. Now there was no Ingrid, and Dorothea had apparently moved on to someone new to pester. “And who would that be?”

“Anyone but Ferdinand,” Dorothea smiled and dipped Mercedes dramatically. “I’m trying to be picky, but a girl’s gotta eat, and unfortunately my crush is being an absolute pain in trying to get close to.”

“I might have one of those myself,” murmured Mercedes as she came up from the dip and caught a glimpse of Hubert managing to look pensive in the cheerful atmosphere.

Dorothea started a very aggressive spin, “I might ask that Yuri guy to dance, he looks like he’d be interesting.”

Mercedes was in a light and giddy mood from how well everything was going, and feeling daring. “I’ll tell you what, if he says no we’ll just dance with each other all night.”

“Never treat yourself like a consolation prize. I take very good care of my partners,” winked Dorothea as she got liberal with her hands. “But, it’s a deal.” Dorothea was at least three drinks in and showing no signs of slowing down. Mercedes knew nothing was happening between them as long as the songstress was in such a state, though it would be good to keep her in mind. A fire had been lit up in Mercedes at the thought of Hubert liking her, and now she was desperate to have it quenched by anyone that offered.

As the song faded the two women walked back to the bar as the next dance began. Dorothea got her way and was quickly whisked off by Yuri. Ferdinand looked especially unhappy about it. He quickly found his own partner and seemed to be deliberately keeping close to the other pair.

Hubert’s arms were tightly folded as he watched Ferdinand making an absolute fool of himself. Mercedes thought about his concoction confession about how he wondered what would have happened if they kept dancing on the night of the ball almost a full year ago. She tugged at his sleeve, “Do you want to share a dance?”

He looked at her quickly and looked back at the floor, “I do not believe I make for a very good partner.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” asked Mercedes. She looked at her other available partners, “Will you really make me go ask a stranger?”

Hubert was stiff as he unfurled his arms. Mercedes took his hand and wrapped her other arm around his waist but Hubert was keeping a large gap between their bodies. Mercedes giggled, “Oh, stop being such a skeleton and get your bones moving.”

She tried to lead him as he awkwardly let her move him about the periphery of the dance floor. Mercedes sighed at his reluctance and surprised him with a dip. She almost dropped him as she did it and as he snapped back up to avoid teetering over, “Do not attempt that again.”

“Oh so you do move of your own accord,” she said as he, with a modicum of confidence, started now to lead her.

“Only out of self preservation,” promised Hubert as he nearly took out a nearby Abyssian. His fingers curled gently around hers as he pulled her body against his so they could move through a narrow channel of couples. This was a much closer dance than the formal waltz they performed beneath a field of stars. Instead it was a raw experience witnessed by a crowded and noisy room. There was no getting around being bumped and forced even closer together as they avoided tangling up with other pairs. The floor was like a river with a fast current running through the middle made of boisterous dancers confidently moving. Yet eventually they found a more relaxed pocket of the tavern to move a little more slowly with each other.

Hubert was still stepping like he was dancing with a princess, though his manner was relaxed for once. The look on his face was unusual to see on him: _fondness_. Mercedes bit her lip because now she was sure he had to like her. He looked down at her with a rare smile, “Is this what I should look forward to? One dance a year?”

“Just a dance? I’m surprised you’re not interested in doing more than kissing a girl,” teased Mercedes to quote his steam of consciousness revealed in the infirmary. Hubert’s expression grew grim with suspicion and there was a sudden gap again between their bodies. Mercedes stared up at him feeling caught off guard by how on edge he’d just become, “You were quite chatty when you were on all those concoctions.”

“I apologize if my conduct was untoward at all, I do not have any recollection of that period,” said Hubert as his stepping screeched to a halt. Mercedes could see how red his ears had gotten and he was no longer making eye contact with her. He dropped her hand and stepped back, “I’m sorry, excuse me.”

“Wait,” said Mercedes as she watched him slipping around the other dancers and stranding her on the floor as he made for the door. He left the Wilted Rose completely in his haste. Mercedes hadn’t meant for him to flee, she was merely testing the waters to understand if he really felt anything. Apparently he did.

She caught him hiding in a shadow near the tunnel that led to the surface. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” said Mercedes as she neared his spot. “I only meant it as a small joke.”

Hubert wiped his face and then crossed his arms, “I fear I do keep thinking about why you even asked me to dance in the first place last year. Was that a small joke too?”

Mercedes leaned against the wall beside him. “I asked you to dance that night because I was feeling lonely amongst our classmates, and I thought you might feel similarly. I make friends easily, but I was also so much older than the other members of my house. They thought it was funny or cute to call me motherly.” Her laugh was unexpectedly bitter. “I’m _motherly_ because I took care of my mother for ten years when she couldn’t always care for herself. I think people mock you for how you treat Edelgard, however, I think it was similar for you. You aren’t even that much older than the others, but, in manner, you were always more like me than them.” Hubert was staring at her with a tentative gaze. Mercedes watched him closely for a reaction, “That’s why I asked you to dance last year, because I felt a sense of connection to you, but why did you say yes?”

He didn’t give her anything other than his usual static expression, “Because I wished to feel normal for a few minutes.” He was looking at her closely as he spoke, “I went outside that night because I was having trouble looking at everyone while knowing what was coming for this place.” His words were twinged with grief, “Dancing with you was a pleasant distraction, but then you kissed me, which I will truly never understand.”

“I kissed you because I wanted to kiss someone and you happened to be there,” said Mercedes truthfully. It was the same reason she was considering sleeping with him now. Hubert’s posture wilted slightly at the admission. “What would you have done if you hadn’t walked away from me?” Mercedes was afraid to ask the question but longing to know the answer.

Hubert shut his eyes. “That night, nothing.”

“And now?” There was little space between them to cross if it was going to happen again. Mercedes’ heart began to beat a little faster.

Hubert sighed and opened his eyes to meet her stare, “Apologize? I know you do not wish to be here.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting from him, but that was not it. “I see. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you at all, I only suspected you might have liked me, but perhaps you were too shy to say anything.”

“If there was no war, no reason to fight, I would have very much liked to have gotten to know you better,” His words were low and whispered, and his true expressions were masked in shadow until he took a step closer to her to stand in the torchlight with her. Hubert looked down at her and then reached out to tenderly tuck her loose hairs behind her ear. His fingers lingered along her neck and for a brief moment Mercedes prepared herself for a kiss that never came. Hubert withdrew his hand and straightened his posture, “I cannot like you in such a manner because we are not equals. You’re a prisoner of this army who must desire escape above all else.” For once his face betrayed what he was feeling, _resignation_ , “Besides, I do not think if given other options that you would choose me.”

Mercedes said nothing, because she wasn’t sure what she would do if given _options_. Part of her wanted to run in the night but she felt obligated to help the Abyssians. She felt compelled by her dreams of what the church could be if guided in a slightly more human direction. Then the scariest prospect was getting to know her brother again and who he’d become during their separation. She wasn’t sure if and where Hubert fit into that, but she wasn’t ready to rule him out completely.

He drew in a slow breath, “As I suspected then.” He gave her an incredibly uncomfortable and stiff bow, “I’ll collect the others, it’s late, and we should be going.” He attempted to slip past her back towards the tavern.

“Hubert, wait.” He froze with his back to her. “You’re right that I wouldn’t choose to serve Adrestia, and I don’t agree with this war, but I’m not sure I would choose instead to support the church, not now anyway.” She crept closer to Hubert as he turned back to face her once more. “I feel torn in so many directions. I’ve given up on the idea that the goddess has plans for us, and yet,” she let out a sad laugh as her hand came up to gesture at the Abyss, “I feel like I’ve been positioned here to do real good for people.” She dropped her hands back to her sides and stared at Hubert, “In school, I didn’t get a chance to connect with my brother because by the time I figured out who he was, he was gone again. Now we’re in the same place and for as many doubts as I now hold about the goddess and her influence, it still feels like fate.” She carefully touched her fingertips to Hubert’s, just shy of taking his hands, “And you’re wrong that I would _never_ choose you. I haven’t made up my mind on how I feel about you yet.”

She could see the little bump of his throat bob as he swallowed as Mercedes stepped closer yet. Her breathing was turning nervous with the crackle of anticipation as their eyes met. She saw his lips tensely moving as if he was about to say something when they were interrupted by a fight spilling from the tavern and right into the corridor they were standing in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bets on who's fighting? (I hope no one suggests anything better than what I've already written haha)
> 
> Also every time I read other works referencing Edelgard's siblings I panic over using the same names...and then I realize that we're all probably on the Germanic names page of Behind the Name.com trying to find the couple names that haven't been used in FE titles (or at least FE3H).


	24. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting friends make up, Ingrid makes the call to get outside help, and Linhardt schools Hubert on some forgotten Adrestian history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw/// 
> 
> vomit.

Ferdinand and Dorothea had been thrown from the Wilted Rose and into the street by a very large man. The heavy door shut them out, and so Dorothea began to drunkenly pound upon it. “Fuck you, I’m not the problem, he is!”

“I do not understand what I did to draw your ire,” slurred Ferdinand with clear hurt in his words as he shakily came to stand. “I merely asked you for a dance.”

Dorothea spun on her heels and pressed her finger into his chest, “Do I really have to explain everything to you?”

Ferdinand held up his empty hands as if to make peace, “I have clearly wronged you, but I do not know how.”

Dorothea gestured around the grimy Abyss tunnel, “This is like every horrible alleyway in Enbarr, where I grew up beneath the boot of nobles like you. I almost died in those streets. I begged, I stole, I ate garbage and drank from drains.”

“I-I,” Ferdinand was clambering for the right words to say as Hubert and Mercedes crossed the distance to break up the argument.

“The only reason anything turned around for me was because someone powerful noticed me singing. The very people who used to spit on me as they passed were suddenly praising me. It was such a sick joke,” growled Dorothea as she teetered between rage and tears.

“I understand why you despise the nobility, but, I am not the same as those cruel people,” said Ferdinand.

“Please, you’re exactly the same, no, you’re worse!” said Dorothea who was beginning to cry as Mercedes started to pull her into a hug. “The day I got discovered, I was so happy I dared to treat myself to a bath in a _nice_ fountain so that I would be clean when I went to the opera house, so wouldn’t change their minds. That’s when you appeared.”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else—”

“You glared at me and ran off, and now here you’re all over me. It’s disgusting. You’re just another bee Ferdinand, just drawn to a pretty flower,” hissed Dorothea as she tried push free of Mercedes embrace to get back in Ferdinand’s face.

“Calm down,” murmured Mercedes as she rubbed Dorothea’s back, “Let’s leave.”

“I am calm,” sobbed Dorothea.

Hubert put his hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder, “Come on, the night is over.” He had no desire to know what had transpired in the bar to get them thrown out, and hoped they had not just undone any of their diplomacy with this show.

“No,” said Ferdinand softly as he watched Dorothea crying. “No, I was not running away. I remember you, I remember following your enchanting voice to the fountain just outside our gates and believed I had stumbled upon a water nymph. Then I realized you were a person, and you were bathing.”

“Liar,” said Dorothea as she pulled free from Mercedes.

“I left because it was overwhelming and shameful to spy on someone in such a state. I ran back to my house, to our garden, to find a flower as beautiful as you as an apology, but when I returned, you were long gone. I had no idea that the girl with the angelic voice from the fountain grew up into you.” Hubert was almost impressed by Ferdinand’s inebriated ability to draw on his usual flourishing language, but less endeared by the way the words all slurred together.

Dorothea was wiping her nose on her sleeve with a mistrustful look, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

Hubert was mortified as Ferdinand drunkenly dropped to his knees in a great declarative show, “Spit on me. Make it right. I have wronged you and you deserve your retribution. Continue to spit upon me as if I was every noble who ever slighted you.”

Dorothea’s face broke into tears again, “I don’t want to spit on you.”

Hubert forced Ferdinand to his feet, “No one is spitting on anyone, we’re leaving.”

Ferdinand cupped Dorothea’s hands and looked at her, “I am so deeply sorry to have caused you this pain. You are so much more than a beautiful flower—”

Their faces sloppily slammed into each other as the two began to kiss. Hubert gaped at the sight and then looked at Mercedes who looked equally shocked. Hubert took a deep breath and then pushed the amorous drunks apart, “You are both inebriated. You will regret this, we’re going to the surface, no more kissing.”

“Hubie, why are you so mean?” whined Dorothea as Mercedes began to pull her towards the passage that took them back up.

Ferdinand was touching his lips as he leaned against Hubert. He spoke in an attempted whisper that came out far too loud, “That was my first kiss, and to have it be with such a wonderful—”

“Enough,” grumbled Hubert as he started to pull Ferdinand toward the stairs. Ferdinand was heavy and non-compliant as they climbed the stairs and Hubert found his wound searing with pain as they climbed. By the time they reached the top he had a stitch in his side and needed to take a breather along the wall as Ferdinand worried out loud about forgetting his first kiss.

“Hubert, does kissing make one feel butterflies in their stomach?” mumbled Ferdinand with a thick voice.

“Ferdinand, you’re ridiculous,” sighed Hubert as he straightened up. Ferdinand looked a little green and then promptly lurched forward to vomit all over Hubert, who stood in shocked silence as he processed what had just transpired.

Ferdinand braced himself against the wall while mixing apologetic sentiments with his fears he was about to do it again. Hubert stared at the sky and silently cursed Sothis; he wanted to be back in the moments of speaking alone with Mercedes, trying to sort out his feelings, and far from this literal mess. However Ferdinand was in no state to care for himself, and therefore Hubert was obligated to fix this.

Hubert shut his eyes and counted to ten as he tried to find a sense of calm. When he opened his eyes again he could see Ferdinand on all fours looking very determined not to throw up any more and the women doubling back to see what was holding them up. Hubert looked down at himself; his jacket had taken the brunt of the wet assault, but he could feel it on his neck and the smell was testing his limits. Hubert went into battle mode. Ferdinand was a soldier down on the field, and Hubert’s own needs had to wait. He clenched his teeth as he pulled Ferdinand back up to his feet.

Mercedes stopped in her tracks with Dorothea’s arm over her shoulder, “Oh, oh my.”

Dorothea let out a cackle as she hung onto Mercedes, “Ferdie you’re a mess.” She stopped laughing suddenly and retched right into the opening of Mercedes’ shirt. Mercedes emitted a choked little gasp as she let Dorothea sit upon the ground. She looked positively crushed by the placement of the singer’s expulsion.

Hubert rubbed his face and idly considered if he could just warp away from all this. Mercedes looked like she was going to cry as she took a few deep breaths. They stared at each other in disbelief for a few moments. “I do not think I can get Ferdinand up the stairs to the second floor dormitory,” admitted Hubert as he rubbed his wounded side with one arm while supporting Ferdinand with the other. Getting out the Abyss had been difficult enough. Climbing another flight of stairs holding Ferdinand might actually do him in.

Mercedes closed her eyes and nodded, “I’ll take him to his room and get him settled. Take Dorothea to hers, and then I’ll come by and try to do a little healing to calm her stomach.”

“I’m sorry this is happening,” whispered Hubert as he looked at her stained blouse while passing off his charge.

Mercedes let out a sigh and nodded. After taking a deep breath she forced a smile and kindly rubbed Ferdinand’s back, “Alright, come on, time for bed.”

Hubert hauled Dorothea to her feet and then did an awkward crutch walk with her to her dorm. Thankfully she had much less mass than von Aegir. “Are you finished with your vomiting or shall I expect more?” She merely moaned in response and dropped her keys repeatedly as she attempted to unlock her door, until Hubert finally just took them off her.

Upon entry to her room Dorothea somberly grabbed her waste bin and wrapped herself around it. “Just in case,” she murmured.

Hubert had far more experience dealing with this than he would like thanks to his father. He sighed and peeled off his soiled jacket to carefully set it outside. That helped with the overpowering smell at least. He went to Dorothea’s dresser to pull out her pajamas and some ribbons for her hair.

As Dorothea held onto her waste bin for dear life, Hubert crouched down and carefully removed her earrings and then sat behind her to braid back her hair. He used to do this for Edelgard when her braids would come loose while playing, though his never looked nearly as good as her lady maids’ work. He noted the vomit still on his pants with a disgruntled sigh; so much for keeping his uniform clean. He’d have to give the laundress a serious tip.

“I can’t believe I made out with Ferdinand,” groaned Dorothea, clearly miserable about it.

Hubert awkwardly rubbed Dorothea’s back because it seemed like the friendly thing to do since that’s what Mercedes had been doing to Ferdinand. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t want to, but he’s hard to hate,” grumbled Dorothea. “He’s just so, so good.” She sounded pissed off about it, and Hubert could relate to the sentiment.

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’ll probably both only have hazy memories of it,” said Hubert, who only had crystal clear memories of his awkward exchange with Mercedes.

“Nobles,” sighed Dorothea as she pushed her unused waste bin away and got to her feet. She sloppily grabbed her nightgown and started to change. Hubert quickly turned away from her as she started to strip. Discarded clothing was flicked about the room as he heard her struggling to find the head hole of her bed clothes.

Mercedes looked beleaguered when she showed up. “Ferdinand is safely tucked in,” she murmured to Hubert.

“Did you roll him on his side?” Hubert faintly recalled being a young child and finding his father in pools of his own vomit. He was constantly afraid that would be the Saturday when Robert didn’t wake up at all.

“Of course,” said Mercedes as she helped Dorothea into her bed and began a gentle healing spell.

Dorothea had sleepily wrapped her arms around Mercedes’ middle, and was softly slurring her words, “Stay with me?”

Mercedes looked at the damp stain down the front of her shirt, “Sorry, I think I need to go to the sauna, as soon as possible.” Hubert felt awful over how uncomfortable she had to be feeling. Dorothea responded with a tiny sniffle of sadness.

“I’ll wait with her until she falls asleep,” offered Hubert as he pulled out Dorothea’s desk chair. “You should get clean.”

“Thank you,” whispered Mercedes as she plucked Dorothea’s sleep heavy arms from her. Hubert wasn’t sure how to broach the topic they’d been speaking on before this debacle, and regretted that their conversation had been cut short as he watched Mercedes walking away.

When Dorothea had finally settled in and stopped making a list of things she liked and disliked about Ferdinand, Hubert quietly left her to go to the sauna himself. His mind would not quiet over what Mercedes had said before they were interrupted so catastrophically, _“And you’re wrong that I would never choose you. I haven’t made up my mind on how I feel about you yet”._ It wasn’t a rejection and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Hubert made his way to his room to collect a change of clothes and his toiletries. Ferdinand’s door was cracked open and Hubert cautiously pressed it open. Ferdinand was peacefully slumbering; Hubert wished a mighty hangover upon him in the morning.

The men’s half of the bath house was predictably empty as Hubert got the last of the vomit from his hair and his skin. He shaved in silence while enjoying the moment of respite. While getting into his small clothes he ached from effort of having to drag Ferdinand around. Hubert wondered if he might just hit the steam room, if only for a little, in an attempt to relax. However, when he entered the little wood paneled room he saw Mercedes sprawled out on a bench practically napping in the heat.

If he just stepped quietly enough perhaps she would not notice he’d briefly been here. Mercedes peeled her towel from her face and stared at him, “You know you can stay. I don’t mind.”

Hubert deliberately chose a spot away from her where he’d have to turn his head to look at her, and silently sat down. She had loaded a ton of coals into the furnace and the room was piping hot, “I wouldn’t expect someone from Faerghus to like things so warm.”

“I grew up in Adrestia, and I never exactly acclimatized to my chosen home,” yawned Mercedes. She was clean as if the vomit episode had never happened and her damp blond hair fanned out on the bench like a halo around her head. Hubert tried not to look at her in her undergarments. While her choices, a shift and bloomers, were modest, the thin fabric was not. He could see every shape and outline if he focused, so he kept his eyes straight ahead.

They sat in silence as Hubert tried to relax. However Mercedes’ mere presence after their little interaction was having the opposite effect upon him. Was it a conversation they were just going to let slide away as if it had never happened? He figured if he just did not speak maybe she would just forget what he’d said. He essentially confessed to wanting her, and he dreaded finding out what he’d said while on all the concoctions in the infirmary. It was almost worst knowing she was uncertain about her feelings than being turned down immediately.

Unfortunately Mercedes was not allowing him a reprieve, “So what were you going to say to me before Ferdinand and Dorothea so thoroughly distracted us?”

In those tense moments, Hubert had been looking down at her while she explained how conflicted she felt being stuck with the Adrestians, and that she hadn’t formed a decision about him. He hesitated because he simply did not know what to say in response. He’d been searching for the right words before things went to hell.

Her words offered him both a glimmer of hope and gut clenching anxiety. He feared that the more she learned about him the less she would like him, even though the more he found out about her the more time he wanted to spend with her. The worst of it was that he was uncertain that this feeling towards her would last; he’d navigated his whole life thus far not wanting to be with someone, and he worried that this infatuation was nothing more than a passing phase. Maybe it was a brush with death that had rendered him so unbalanced, and he merely needed to wait out these feelings as he healed and felt more like himself. It hurt to want her this badly and yet it was getting to a point where he didn’t _want_ these feelings to end. If anything he wanted them to grow. 

Hubert stared at his scarred up hands as he imagined himself holding her. His hands had harmed Mercedes personally when the war began, and the same hands signed the writ of her conscription. They did not deserve to touch her now. Those feelings twisted and pulled at the small relief he’d felt in confessing how he felt about Mercedes, and now he felt ashamed and exposed. Hubert got up to leave, “I should really be going. It’s late and it sounds like tomorrow is going to be busy.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes. Her face looked disappointed that he was skittering off, but Hubert reminded himself he was demonstrably bad at reading her. “Hubert, I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, I’m not very experienced with this,” she said in a rush.

She was apologizing when he was the one who should be asking for forgiveness. It was almost too much. “I am grateful that you are being so kind about my feelings, but I shouldn’t be encouraging these thoughts.”

Watching her expression sadden at his words felt like a thousand lances entering him. Her voice was small, “No one has expressed any interest in me in a long time. I just got excited at the prospect of being intimate with someone, and not just in my head.” It was hard to tell if she was blushing from embarrassment or red from the suffocating heat in here.

“Then I hope that someone else expresses interest, someone better fit to you,” said Hubert. If she was with someone else maybe his stupid heart would stop yearning so hard. By her own admission she didn’t support the war or Adrestia, and wanting to be with her felt like betrayal of everything he stood for. 

Mercedes was watching him like she saw right through him, “Are we still on for more late night tea and forbidden books?”

The question caught him off guard, “If you would like to continue, I would appreciate the help with my research.” He had almost said ‘our research’ and was grateful he at least had some control over his tongue. Hubert wasn’t sure if he ought to bow or if that would come off as too formal given the topics they’d just covered. “You know where to find me.”

“Well, then it’s a date,” said Mercedes with a smile that made his treacherous heart want to sing.

***

Dimitri had a fever that would not break. Dedue was pacing their small cave as Ingrid got herself ready. “I do not like this plan,” reiterated Dedue.

Ingrid checked her coin purse, and hoped it would be enough to buy a legitimate concoction. “You said there are tunnels that lead to an underground market, he needs _something_. I go in, I buy what I can, I come back. Easy.”

“There are traps,” said Dedue.

“I understand,” said Ingrid as she picked up the blanket that used to sit on her dead horse and wrapped it around her like a sort of shabby cloak. It was the best disguise she had, plus the patina of crust that had built up since her last wash.

Dedue looked back to the spot where Dimitri had not moved from in two days. He was refusing food, and barely taking in water. His injured eye was swollen and red and the smell coming off it was unbearable. Ingrid tightened her belt around her ensemble and crossed her arms, “If I’m not back this time tomorrow, assume the worst.”

Dedue looked down at her with a grimace, “Ingrid, I implore you not to do this—”

“He’s going to die if I don’t,” said Ingrid. Dedue frowned but said nothing because it becoming obvious that if they didn’t get help for Dimitri’s eye, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Ingrid finished off her outfit by hiding away the short sword she’d been given by Felix’s mother. Ingrid didn’t like swords as much as lances, but this was easy to conceal in case she needed it. She wasn’t planning on being captured, but she wouldn’t make it easy on anyone that tried.

The walk to the monastery in the pre-dawn light was calm and quiet. It had snowed again, but only lightly, and there was minimal crunching beneath her feet. She marked her path with little notches on the trees she passed. Eventually the forest became familiar as she neared Garreg Mach. Dedue said that Dimitri had entered the underground of the monastery from beneath the great bridge that led to the cathedral. It was already mid morning by the time Ingrid reached it. She looked up and saw there were a surprising number of people up on the bridge. The looked like civilians if Ingrid squinted, but there were also plenty of Imperial soldiers in their awful black uniforms. She wondered what the hell was going on up there as she looked for the entrance.

Once inside, it was far darker than she could have imagined. Ingrid tried to put herself into Dimitri’s shoes to predict what he might have done. She kept one arm on the wall as she walked through the increasingly damp and chilly tunnel. She tried to be brave even though Dedue’s voice telling her this was a terrible idea kept echoing louder inside her head with each step. _Shit_. Ingrid kept going because she had to do something. She couldn’t go back to Dimitri empty handed.

Eventually her blind wanderings led her to an open area with some slightly better lighting. Ingrid focused on the torches in the distance until she heard a familiar voice bouncing off the walls. Ingrid dropped the ground and stilled her movements as the voices got louder. She was next to some crates and she pulled her blanket over her face with hopes it was good enough camouflage.

“So we’re looking for what exactly?” Caspar, _of course_.

“Caspar, for the love of Adrestia, be quiet today,” said Hubert, sounding more irate than usual. “I have enough holes in me, thank you.”

“Oh, sorry,” murmured Caspar.

Linhardt’s yawn echoed through the tunnel, “We want anything that looks like it would be bad to touch. The badder, the better.”

“We’re looking for anything that looks old or dangerous-” clarified Hubert.

“Kind of like you?” suggested Linhardt as Caspar broke out into a loud laugh.

Ingrid froze as she watched the two mages with fire in their hands walking directly in front of her. She held her breath as they passed her, continuing towards the way she came from. When she stopped hearing their feet she practically ran towards the direction they had come from. She had a sinking feeling she was going to have to find a new way to leave the monastery.

She went in the direction of noise, hoping it was the promised marketplace, and not more soldiers. Ingrid slipped into a hallway that was lit by torches and breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped she was about to blend in as she went towards where it seemed an underground village was in turmoil.

To her absolute horror, there were no market stalls open, but instead hundreds of people gathering in a barely orderly fashion under the direction of Ferdinand, who seemed uncharacteristically under the weather. Ingrid put up her hood and kept her eyes towards the ground as she fell into the queue. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ Ingrid kept walking, trying not push, and attempting to avoid detection by any old classmates that might recognize her. She eventually reached the holy tomb where Edelgard had revealed herself as the Flame Emperor. Ingrid looked to the spot where Byleth had _almost_ killed Edelgard, and wished that he had just whipped his sword right at her neck. Edelgard and the Black Eagles that had defected with her had been beaten, and Rhea was ordering Byleth to kill her.

Byleth had hesitated and then made his stand with Edelgard. That’s when all hell broke loose as half the Black Eagles clung to each other around their Emperor and traitor professor and warped away. Dimitri had truly lost it at that as the students engaged with the remaining Adrestian soldiers. No prisoners were taken under Rhea’s orders. She passed her judgment with her own hands. Ingrid had heard that Rhea was an expert grappler, but she hadn’t actually believed it until she saw the archbishop kill an armored soldier without even a training gauntlet on her fist. Later, Seteth would debrief the Golden Deer and the Blue Lions by telling them no one crossed the church and lived.

The queue of people was heading towards the stairs, and Ingrid knew that would lead up to the cathedral. She ran through what she could do if caught. Dedue had been right, this was incredibly stupid, but for better or worse she was in the thick of it. She had only her little sword and somehow that did not seem like enough to fight her way to freedom with.

Up at the top of the stairs Dorothea’s voice rang out, although it sounded like she had been singing too much the night before, as she directed people either towards food, medical care, or supplies as needed. Ingrid held her hand up to to cough and to cover her face as much as possible as she was turned towards the healers. Her plan was now to steal whatever healing potions she could and the get the hell away from the monastery as quickly as possible. Her plan did not include landing in front of Mercedes.

“One minute, sorry.” Mercedes’ back was turned as she cleaned her hands over a porcelain washbasin. As she turned and looked at Ingrid her eyes grew wide. She shut her mouth and glanced around before returning her stare to Ingrid, “What brings you here today?” Her voice was ever calm and soothing though her eyes betrayed her panic.

Ingrid touched her eye, “I need something for a friend, something strong.” She prayed Mercedes had heard what Felix had done in the woods to Dimitri’s eye.

“What seems to be the trouble?” Mercedes further obscured Ingrid’s face with her own hands as she pretended to inspect her.

“He has a bad infection, maybe deadly,” managed Ingrid in a low whisper. “He’s had a fever for three days now.”

Mercedes’ breathing was a little panicked, “I see, that is not good at all. Have you tried treating it?”

“I used up all my vulneraries,” said Ingrid. “It’s really, _really_ bad.”

“Bad enough that you need a professional?”

Ingrid hesitated; Mercedes was their friend and if anyone in this stupid place could be trusted it was her. Yet Ingrid was still bitter over what had happened with Annette and Sylvain. She had thought they were trusted friends too. However, saving Dimitri was her priority and if meant revealing their location to one person so be it. Ingrid would deal with the consequences after her friend was repaired. "Yes, we need you, today." 

Mercedes hummed as she leaned in very close to Ingrid’s face, “Keep your head down and follow my lead.” Mercedes began to wrap a bandage over Ingrid’s forehead and eye and fixed her hood as far as it would go. It was quite hard to see but the gentle clicking of glass bottles being gathered up caught Ingrid’s focus; Mercedes was stuffing a bag with supplies. She grabbed Ingrid’s hand and began to walk with a brisk pace.

“Manuela, may I have permission to go down to the Abyss, there’s someone who can’t be moved and I’m going to assess how to help them,” lied Mercedes as she held Ingrid’s hand.

Ingrid couldn’t really make Manuela out, but she sounded convinced, “Oh, sure. Don’t hesitate to come get more help if you think you need a stretcher or something.”

“Wonderful, well, I don’t know how long it will take, but don’t worry,” said Mercedes in her calm and cheerful voice. “I’ll come straight back when I get them settled.” She pulled Ingrid along with her through the crowded cathedral.

They descended in the opposite direction of the queue. Mercedes had a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder as she led her and even stopped to confirm her false narrative with Ferdinand who sleepily agreed. When they were back near the market Mercedes whispered in Ingrid’s ear, “Take me the way you came in.”

“I passed Hubert, Caspar, and Linhardt going that way,” said Ingrid softly as she began to remove her disguise.

“Let me handle them if they catch us,” said Mercedes carefully. They moved in silence along the path as best as Ingrid remembered it. There were more twists and turns than she remembered and her stomach turned at the idea of getting lost and burning valuable time. There was also the fear of getting caught hanging over them. Caspar’s loud voice clued them in when it was time for them to hide themselves.

“Are you sure this isn’t just junk?” Caspar was clanging something together.

“I don’t know what it is, please stop trying to break it,” hissed Hubert. The two women crouched and made no motion or sound as the trio of Black Eagles hauled items from the tunnel. Eventually the sounds of their footsteps and voices faded and Mercedes and Ingrid practically ran to get out of the Abyss and into the woods.

***

They had found quite a lot of stuff that was either worthless trash or ancient artifacts, or most likely both. Hubert was increasingly convinced this was a city as they prepared to enter a large circular building at the end of the underground bridge. Hubert did his best not to think about how deep the chasm beneath them might be as they approached. Rising from its depths was an impossibly tall statue that looked like Rhea. This had to have been a fighting arena, based on the sheer number of weapons that greeted them upon entry.

Caspar eagerly put on a pair of rusty gauntlets and narrated an imagined fight for the empty seats of dark arena, “He punches right, he goes left,” Caspar performed a convincing uppercut, “And Bergliez is still champ!”

“Wonderful, stop cheering for yourself and start collecting anything useful,” ordered Hubert.

Caspar looked admonished as he pushed the little wagon they’d been filling for the last few hours. This left Hubert with Linhardt as they explored what looked like a dungeon beneath the arena. “Do you suppose they kept prisoners down here?” Hubert wasn’t sure why else there would be these cells. It felt ominous, like a place where people sentenced to die wallowed as they waited for execution.

Linhardt shrugged, clearly unperturbed by the atmosphere, as he looked inside one of the cramped holding pens, “It seems that way, although we still don’t know who _they_ are.” It was a valid point; Hubert wasn’t sure whether this was an Agarthan city or one belonging to the children of the goddess, or perhaps a mix of both.

Hubert had been superstitious as a child but had grown out of it for the most part. Yet right now as they crept through the decaying building he felt like a small child in the empty house in Enbarr waiting for his father to get home for the night. This felt like a place where something bad lurked waiting for unsuspecting passersby to cross into its jaws. Linhardt and Hubert continued down the hall until they reached a much nicer room. Mosaics lined the walls depicting some unexpectedly scandalous acts. Hubert stared as he tried to make sense of if. Shaking his head, Linhardt traced a hand over a big thigh on the wall, “I believe this is the winner’s lounge.”

“The ancients certainly weren’t shy,” said Hubert as he objectively admired the attention to detail on the nearest phallus. Men and men, men and women, women and women, orgies with dragons at their center. This was a period of history omitted from the Books of Seiros.

“Well if these people were the antecedents of modern Adrestia, it makes sense,” said Linhardt as he made his way to what might have been a bar carved from stone. Someone had clearly already looted this place and there was little left than smashed bottles that looked like they might have once been adorned with gilding and gemstones.

“What do you mean it makes sense?”

“Early Adrestians were notably wild, especially by today’s standards,” said Linhardt as he gestured to the walls. “The Emperor still takes multiple consorts, but that practice stretches back to Wilhelm’s days, if not earlier. Apparently polyamory was a prevailing cultural norm. Allegedly, Loog rebelled out of a need for more modesty, hence why Faergheans today are so notoriously repressed.”

“Why do you know so much about this?” Hubert definitely did not recall such stories from his primary school history lessons.

“It has come up in my crest research. Before the great noble houses were established, it was common to throw orgies to spread crested blood around, in an attempt to make as many powerful babies as possible. The descendants of the ten elites eventually rejected this, preferring to concentrate their wealth in their lineages. So crests first became concentrated in families in the east, while such practices took longer to take hold in what is still Adrestia today. For example, the Varleys and the Essars share a crest of Indech, but their common ancestor lived, oh, centuries ago,” said Linhardt as he wrinkled his nose. “I suppose rampant polyamory sounds more enjoyable than the present state of Fodlan marriage, but even just being with one person is exhausting enough in my opinion.”

Hubert felt his need to be in other’s business taking over his manners, “Are you seeing someone?”

Linhardt looked Hubert over with a smug expression, “Rarely the same person twice.”

“You’re with multiple people?” Hubert raised a thin eyebrow, “How many?”

“Oh as many as possible, I’m collecting data,” said Linhardt in a manner of fact way. “I was inspired by a conversation with Hanneman.”

“Hanneman suggested that you have sex with a bunch of different partners?” asked Hubert in disbelief.

“No,” said Linhardt with a hint of disgust at Hubert’s assumption. “No, he mentioned that one of his regrets was that he was too focused on his research when he was young. He feels he missed out on relationships with others, platonic, romantic, and familial. He lost his sister quite suddenly, and I think it weighs heavily on him that they had drifted so far apart as adults.” Hubert was quiet as he contemplated of Hanneman’s loneliness and by extension his own. He didn’t know his siblings hardly at all, and his grandmother, while healthy and powered by spite, would not be with him forever. Yet desiring long term relationships with others implied reaching old age, and Hubert didn’t see himself surviving to be in Hanneman’s predicament.

Linhardt continued to describe his study design, “I figured the most efficient use of time is to sample as many different types of people and acts as possible in my prime. Then I can identify what I enjoy, if anything, and target my search for a person to suit me if that is something I think I might need down the line.”

“Have you made any findings?” asked Hubert dryly as he processed Linhardt’s clinical approach to things.

“I have found that I am bored easily,” sighed Linhardt. He paused and took a deep breath, “Sex is fun, but time consuming. Honestly, I get a similar thrill from making a breakthrough in my books. I think my ideal sort of arrangement would be with a research assistant. We could solve problems, celebrate our discoveries, and then get back to work.”

Hubert wondered if he would someday regret never going after the one person he’d managed to want a connection with if he managed to survive the war. He cringed at his suggestion in the sauna that she go seek out company elsewhere, because Mercedes was enchanting and it was only a fluke that no one was pursuing her. If he didn’t take his chance, it was only a matter of time before someone else did. “How do you, um, go about initiating this sort of thing?”

Linhardt looked at Hubert, “I heard you were dealing with some love problems I just didn’t believe it—”

“It’s not like that,” insisted Hubert. If there was a spell to seal up Manuela’s lips he’d be using it. “Do you take them for a meal first, or,” his voice trailed off. He didn’t like sounding uncertain about anything but this topic was like staring into a void to him.

“I’m not courting anyone,” scoffed Linhardt as if that were obvious. “I simply ask if they would be interested in whatever act I’ve gotten to on my list.”

“You have list of sex acts you’re trying?”

“Of course I made a list, it’s an experiment Hubert, you just can’t go about randomly choosing, that’s sloppy,” said Linhardt.

“What all are you doing?”

“Use your imagination,” said Linhardt as his voice grew prickly. Hubert got the distinct sense that Linhardt was tiring of discussing this particular endeavor. Thankfully they were interrupted which spared Hubert the embarrassment of acknowledging that he didn’t know very much about sex other than the couple positions he’d done when losing his virginity to a prostitute. If the mosaics on the wall around him were any indication there were clearly quite a few ways to engage in intimacy.

“Hey guys come look at this,” called Caspar excitedly as he appeared in the doorway. Hubert and Linhardt followed Caspar, who brought them to some sort of spiked pit in the ground near the edge of the arena’s floor. It sat beneath a particularly grand throne up in the stands, as if that was a spot where a king or queen, or perhaps a saint, might sit. Skeletons littered the pit, and Hubert took this to be some sort of macabre means of execution. In the center was a round, faintly glowing object.

“Good find Caspar,” said Hubert as he internally cursed at the prospect of having to go retrieve a relic from a mass grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LINHARLOT. 
> 
> A note on ships, since the Ferdithea fans are probably thinking "wtf was that", if it's not Mercedes x Hubert, I really don't have many plans. I may have red herrings, and some brushes of background romances sprinkled throughout, but if you have an OTP/NOTP, I make no promises (which is why nothing else is tagged).


	25. Blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw///
> 
> Injuries, eyeball surgeries, self-harm, sexual content

Three different personalities meant three very different plans for how to get the relic. Caspar was trying to rig several lance shafts together to fish it out, but Hubert had a feeling there was no chance of that working unless they planned on missing dinner. Linhardt wanted to go get someone else to deal with it. “We can’t just jump down there, there’s no way to get back up,” said Linhardt as he watched Hubert circling the pit. “Please tell me you’re not about to just do this, you can’t even handle a relic—”

Hubert held up his gloved hands, “I won’t be touching it.” Climbing down there and fetching it seemed straight forward enough, and the sooner it was in their possession the better. “Besides, I know you want to study it and unlock its secrets.” This was the closest they were going to get to a relic unless Lorenz gave Linhardt access to Thyrsus, which seemed extremely unlikely.

Linhardt groaned, “At least go get a rope or a ladder, or _something_.”

“Maybe if someone could hurry up and master Warp we wouldn’t be having this discussion,” Hubert glared at the lazy scholar, while glossing over the fact that he himself could only warp using dark magic with the aid of an amplifier like a staff. “Why don’t you make yourself useful for a change and get one since you don’t wish to go down there yourself?” This was something worth getting dirty for because it meant keeping a relic, of all the things to find, out the hands of the Slithers. The longer they left it while looking for help getting it, the more people would find out about it. Hubert wanted this discovery kept as quiet as possible.

Linhardt let out a disgruntled groan before trudging off in search of a rope. Caspar licked his lips as he looked at the distance to the ground and then seemed to size up Hubert, “I bet you I can lower you down there, I bet I can even get you back up. You’re not that heavy.”

Caspar had once carried Hubert against his will to tea with Ferdinand, so if anyone was good for this sort of thing it was him. Hubert tried to ignore his fear of heights as Caspar lowered him down by his arms. It was less than two feet to the ground once Caspar let go. An unlit torch clattered down next to him followed by a late breaking, “Incoming!”

Hubert awkwardly navigated the many bones littering the ground. Attempting to avoid the skeletons made his travel extremely slow and he couldn’t wait for the mocking Linhardt was going to give him for getting down here without waiting for a sure way up. Clearly people had been pushed into this pit and some of the skeletons appeared impaled upon the monstrously tall spikes. Others looked like their skulls had cracked open upon impact. However it was strange the way they were sprawled out as if only a handful of them had been pushed while others looked like they had taken attacks down in the pit itself with the occasional rusted sword in a rib cage. Hubert wondered if it was a sort of midden where fallen fighters got swept in like rubbish.

The relic was only noticeable because it was faintly glowing against the darkness. It was a shock no one had looted it sooner, but maybe they were wisely afraid of it. Hubert hoped his gloves would be enough to protect him when handling the thing. Edelgard wouldn’t let him mess about with the fake crest stones for fear he’d become a demonic beast, but she never explicitly forbidden him from touching a real crest stone. She probably wouldn’t appreciate this subtle distinction he was making but it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

“What do you think these people did?” called Caspar down into the pit.

“Pissed off the wrong person,” said Hubert as he looked up towards the throne like structure looming up above the pit. Falling to ones death seemed like a horrible way to die, though Hubert couldn’t exactly think of a good way to go.

The relic appeared to be a necklace adorning a slumped skeleton. The crest stone pulsed with a reddish light and displayed a pleasant twisting symbol at its center. Hubert knew that crest, _Lamine_. He looked again at the skeleton and wondered who he or she had been in the line that had eventually given the world the Death Knight and Mercedes. As he carefully lifted the relic by its chain, an unholy wail filled his ears.

Apparitions began to rise from the greasy old bones. Caspar, from his safe vantage point, let out a distressed cry, “Hubert! Behind you!”

The magic passed through his back before he really registered that he was clutching the relic. What should have hurt a lot felt dulled to a mere ache. Yet his hand was searing where it held the chain. The thin fabric of his glove had been burned through to the skin. The relic seemed to take most of the blow even though it injured him back in kind. Hubert didn’t have time to pick apart what was happening as the ghost of a humorless looking gremory began to rise from the skeleton at his feet.

Hubert abandoned all hope of avoiding old bones as he sprinted towards Caspar. He saw Caspar’s hands stretching down to pull him up. Hubert jumped with all he was worth and merely grazed Caspar’s fingers before falling back down to the ground and the attack of an incoming apparition. Hubert swung his torch at the ghost and then dropped it and the relic as he prepared to cast.

There were ten adversaries, and each ghost bore the symbol of distinct crest upon their chest. These were the ten elites, and this was their final resting ground. Caspar could be heard dropping in the dim light to the bottom of the pit and rolling to his feet ready to fight.

“You should be getting help, not jumping down here,” roared Hubert as he dodged another attack. The ghosts gave off an eerie glow which made them easy to target, but otherwise the torch was their only source of light.

Caspar only had what he had gathered in the fighting arena, some training gauntlets, as he punched his way to Hubert’s side. “You wouldn’t last long enough for me to go get help.” Hubert would have argued but Caspar managed to punch a ghost, Charon, hard enough to cause it to evaporate into glowing wisps that fizzed and faded. At least this meant they could be eliminated. Hubert hoped it wasn’t just a temporary reprieve.

Hubert focused on the ghostly forms that appeared to have ranged attacks — Lamine and Riegan — while Caspar engaged Goneril. Caspar was yelling out positions of the apparitions as he saw them, which was helpful as Hubert spun to cast. Perhaps Caspar’s yelling had some utility in battle after all. However the two kept getting pushed closer and closer together until their backs were up against the wall of the pit. There wasn’t any hope of escape unless Linhardt magically appeared to get them and Hubert’s blood ran cold as he heard the slice of flesh and a gurgle from beside him. Caspar had been hit with a throwing axe courtesy of Dominic.

Hubert caught Caspar’s heavy falling form as the small brawler slumped against him. The axe fell free, causing more blood to begin to spill. Hubert frantically tried to compress the wound as he assessed the locations of the remaining ghosts. Hubert could barely see anything but the burning bright ghost as they closed in on the two of them.

The terrible wail had drawn the attention of another ally helping to explore the tunnels. Jeritza cleared the distance down into the pit with startling ease as he began to slice through Dominic and Gautier with his scythe like they were nothing. Hubert focused on Caspar as Jeritza went on to eliminate Daphnel.

Hubert’s mind raced as he considered the field triage protocol for a chest wound. “Please work, please work,” he whispered as he concentrated on doing a Heal spell. He tried and failed. Mercedes’ lesson during Hanneman’s class so long ago floated through his mind. _Happy, what makes you happy?_ His brain was caught on a loop of emptiness as he broke it with the thought of kissing Mercedes, not at the ball but in an imagined future, and his hands lit up with green. Caspar coughed and Hubert looked in disbelief that his spell had worked, but it clearly wasn’t enough. He wiped his brow and realized that his gloves were soaked with Caspar’s blood as more bubbled out.

Gloucester got too close and Hubert snapped back into the battle with Dark Spikes. Caspar’s breath was shallow and ragged as Hubert pressed his hand back upon the brawler’s chest and thought about all the silly things Caspar managed to bother Hubert with while he was trying to work. His hands glowed green again as another weak Heal spell tried and failed to shut the skin. _Something else happy_ ; Edelgard sharing her sketches with Dorothea and Petra; dancing with Mercedes in the dank Wilted Rose; magic lessons in the imperial gardens in his childhood. None of Hubert’s healing spells were enough to save Caspar, but they were keeping him hanging on.

Jeritza dispatched Fraldarius, leaving just Blaiddyd. The ghost of the dark knight was hulking and huge. As a blast of Ragnarok began to brew Hubert threw himself over Caspar in a last attempt to shield him from any further harm. Green chains flashed in the air, a Silence spell, as Linhardt got back with his rope. With Blaiddyd’s attack muzzled, Jeritza wasted no time in going in for the second death of the apparition.

Linhardt clumsily fell into Jeritza’s arms before pushing Hubert to the side and performing actual healing magic on Caspar. Things began to pass in a blur to Hubert as Jeritza did most of the heavy lifting to get them out of the pit. The death knight paused over the retrieved relic and then lifted it to inspect it. Jeritza unceremoniously placing it around his neck and continued silently with his duties. The warm blood soaking Hubert’s front was beginning to chill and leaving him cold as he stared down into the pit of death for far too long. People had tried to get that relic before but had been stopped, and he too had almost become another skeleton at the bottom.

***

Mercedes followed Ingrid through the woods. She wished she had on warmer clothes or a coat, but her adrenaline was pumping and keeping her warm. Every once and a while she’d look back over her shoulder to Garreg Mach rising out of the woods and wondered when her absence would be questioned. Hopefully no one would think to search for her beyond the monastery grounds.

“You cut your hair,” said Mercedes as she panted behind Ingrid, watching the other girl’s neck and imagining it was freezing. “It looks nice.”

“I didn’t do it to look nice,” said Ingrid, her manner as blunt as her bob. “It’s practical.”

“So why are you still out here in the cold?” asked Mercedes as Ingrid gave her hand to grab as they climbed up some rocks. “Why aren’t you home, or in Fhirdiad?”

“Because the fight is here,” said Ingrid as she caught her breath.

Mercedes checked her medic’s kit to make sure all her bottles were intact, “It’s not much of a fight though if its only the five of you—”

“Three,” said Ingrid softly. “There’s only three of us.”

Mercedes felt a small panic in her chest, “So—”

“Sylvain and Annette fled after the fight in the woods,” said Ingrid, her voice soaked in bitterness.

Mercedes on the other hand was extremely relieved to hear that. She wished she could see Annette and give her a big hug, but in all honesty the farther her friend was from here, the better. “You should know that the Emperor is intent on finding Dimitri, she’s ordered my brother here to look for him.”

Ingrid groaned, “Just our luck. No offense, but fuck your brother.”

It was offensive and Mercedes did her best to let it go. She understood why her friends despised Emile, but understanding didn’t make it hurt less. When she confided in her fellow Blue Lions that she was almost certain Jertiza was her brother she wasn’t sure what she was expecting for a response. Mercedes wanted to be open and upfront on the off chance they fought the Death Knight again after he fled Garreg Mach. She was terrified she would hesitate or freeze if having to confront him, which would put everyone relying on her at risk. They had a right to know. Everyone seemed to go out of their way to let her know that they didn’t see her as a reflection of him — they’d been raised separately, they were estranged, she wasn’t responsible for his sins — but no one made a point to try to understand why she wasn’t rushing to condemn Jeritza. Only Sylvain seemed to empathize with the complexity of having a family member who was so antagonistic, but he wasn’t exactly eager to discuss this with her.

“He’s helping to seal the tunnels we went through, you have time to leave before he starts searching the woods.”

“Dimitri’s not going anywhere fast,” said Ingrid. “He was slowing down, but, I thought it was him coming back not getting sicker.”

It was an odd way to phrase things, “What do you mean?”

Ingrid was keeping her head up and looking stalwart as she walked. Finally her lip quivered a bit, “Dimitri’s not well. Not just his eye, his head and his heart. He’s fighting a lot of darkness, and I don’t know how to help him.”

“Oh,” murmured Mercedes. She swallowed as she remembered Dimitri’s behavior in the last few battles in their time as students, and seeing what had befallen the monastery was especially depraved. She didn’t want to believe it was him who had enacted such violence, but that was where the evidence fell. As much as she wanted to tell Hubert he was wrong in his investigation into the massacre, Yuri had confirmed it in front of her. “Well, let’s fix his eye first, and then we’ll see what can be done for the rest.”

“Thanks for coming,” said Ingrid softly. “I know it’s a big risk. But, you know, we could really use you out here—”

“If I stay out here, there’s a higher chance you’ll be caught,” said Mercedes. She envisioned Jeritza out looking for, and not stopping until she was found. It was not a risk she was willing to take. “I’ve asked to come out on patrols, and now that I know where your base is, I can help to divert my brother off course, but you should really try to leave.”

“What if you help us take Dimitri back to Fhirdiad?” Ingrid’s voice was hopeful.

Mercedes gave a bittersweet glance back in the direction of Garreg Mach, and then north, “I have unfinished business here.”

Ingrid studied her for a few moments with what felt like contempt, “You’re really staying for your brother?”

Mercedes nodded, “I can’t leave him, not again.” She paused and tried to seem optimistic, “Besides, if I stay that means you have two allies on the inside.”

“Two?”

“Felix,” said Mercedes. Ingrid interrupted her with a harrumph and Mercedes frowned, “I know that you’re mad at him, but I think he panicked. He’s been very withdrawn since he had to fight you, he’s filled with regret—”

“He made his choice,” said Ingrid. It sounded like she had made her own choice to never forgive him.

Mercedes sighed, “Don’t you believe in giving people second chances?”

Ingrid froze and grew visibly stiff, “Of course, but people need to earn them—”

“Sometimes they need the permission to try, through our forgiveness,” said Mercedes.

“Save the goddess stuff right now,” said Ingrid. She seemed like she might cry, “I’m not ready to forgive them.”

 _Them_. Mercedes guessed that meant Felix, Sylvain, and Annette. Mercedes didn’t want to press the point further, “I hope if the time comes, you can find it in yourself.” They didn’t speak much after that. The walk was arduous but Mercedes persevered. She didn’t want to be out here after dark and it was already noon.

Finally they reached the cave and Mercedes’ heart leapt at the sight of Dedue. Before he could even get out a hello she was hugging him, “I’m glad to see you.” It had been almost eight months since she had last seen any of them. She hadn’t had an easy time trapped within the Imperial Army, but she couldn’t deny that she seemed much better off then they did.

“I am grateful to see you,” said Dedue before looking at Dimitri. “The prince is in dire need of your attention.”

It was a massive understatement. Dimitri looked exceptionally pale laying beneath blankets in a makeshift bed. Mercedes found his forehead very hot to the touch. He groaned slightly but otherwise barely reacted to her presence. She looked up at Ingrid, “You said his fever has been going on three days now?”

“Yes, and he’s barely taken in any food or water,” added Ingrid worriedly. “We cleaned him up and made him comfortable, but we’re out of medicine and neither of us are much for faith spells.”

Mercedes pursed her lips as her mind raced through what needed to happen. “Dedue, could you please make sure Dimitri’s arms stay down as I examine his eye?”

With Dimitri secure, Mercedes braced herself as she attempted to open his injured eye. That did get a reaction of him as Dimitri’s good eye flashed open and he emitted a well justified cry of pain. The wound was extremely raw, and it was one of the worst infections Mercedes had ever seen in her time as a healer. She immediately got out a concoction and tried to keep her voice as comforting as possible, “Dimitri, this will help with the pain.”

He twisted his head away from Mercedes and tried to avoid her hands until Ingrid sighed and forced his mouth open. Mercedes tried to maintain a calm control of the situation. “Be gentle with him, everything must hurt terribly right now,” said Mercedes as she administered one, and then two concoctions. The three of them waited over the prince as his body stopping fighting them and grew lax.

“We have to take him to the monastery,” whispered Mercedes. This felt miles above her skill level to treat.

“Can’t you just use a spell?” asked Ingrid.

Healing spells and potions were passive solutions in the vein of prayer and warm wishes. Mercedes was getting the impression this was going to take some active action to solve. The eye was a loss and it needed to come out, but Mercedes had only read about such things. The proper way to do it was to save as much as possible and let it heal slowly under observation, but that would require taking him to the monastery and more skillful hands. “He could be treated in the infirmary by a team of physicians—”

“That is not an option,” said Dedue. “The Empire will capture him, they might even kill him. Besides, he would never agree to taking their help.”

“Well we can’t exactly ask his opinion,” said Mercedes. While she agreed with Dedue’s instincts, they were just that. If the choice was between dying and accepting the Empire’s help, would Dimitri really choose the former? “I just don’t know that I’m the best person to do this,” started Mercedes. She’d never even seen a surgery like this done and there was so much that could go wrong.

“You’re the person we have,” whispered Ingrid softly as she looked down at Dimitri. “So you’re going to have to be the best.” Mercedes didn’t miss the way Ingrid’s hand had come to rest on the handle of her short sword. “If you’re still a Blue Lion beneath that Adrestian uniform, you’ll do this.”

“I hope you’re not intending that to be a threat,” said Mercedes as neutrally as possible as she stared at Ingrid. Ingrid’s eyes averted as her hand slipped off the handle of her sword.

Dedue cleared his throat, “I know it is not ideal, but this is the reality of our situation.”

“Alright,” said Mercedes as she tried to mentally prepare herself for performing a solo surgery based purely on book knowledge. Mercedes hadn’t been praying much recently but now she clasped her hands together and silently begged the Goddess, _If you are in fact nudging me to where I need to be, please let me be here to save Dimitri, and not to bury him_. She took a few deep breaths and accepted that if it had to be done here, then she would figure things out. She wasn’t going to ask Dimitri’s forgiveness for what she was about to do, but she hoped they both survived for him to give it to her someday in person.

“I need a fire, as close as you can make it,” directed Mercedes as she pulled out her supplies. If she had been able to treat him immediately upon being injured, he might still have his sight, but as it stood that eye could only be fixed with removal.

Mercedes washed her hands and did her best to sterilize her tools with the scant amount of alcohol she had. This was the least nice place to perform a surgery but there was no helping it. “Ingrid, you have smaller fingers, can you sit here by his head?”

Ingrid and Dedue exchanged glances and then Ingrid nodded, “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to hold his eyelids open,” said Mercedes. “As wide as you can manage, flip them if you need to.”

“Oh, of course,” said Ingrid as she stared at Dimitri’s swollen red lid. She winced as she did it, appearing barely able to look at what she was doing, “Is this good?”

The sight and the smell was stomach turning but Mercedes cleared her throat and did her best to ignore it, “You’re doing wonderfully.”

She first fished a small clay vessel out of her bag and held it over the fire. Dedue watched her tentatively, “What is that for?”

“I’m creating a vacuum,” said Mercedes calmly before quickly placing the mouth of the round cup over the eye socket.

“You plan on sucking his eye out?” Dedue’s characteristic calmness was replaced with horror.

Mercedes wished it were that simple, “No, I’m trying to get all the pus out. Keep his torso as still as possible.”

It was slow work but eventually much of the infectious fluid was cleared and Mercedes could get an actual look at the eye socket. Felix had sliced straight into the eyeball, which had then been scratched ragged. Whatever essential fluid that had been in there was long gone leaving things looking sunken and deflated, yet stretched out by the muscles still holding it in place. The pupil, just a hole after all, was clouded by the emptiness, and the beautiful blues of Dimitri’s iris were punctuated by the alarming red tone the sclera had taken on. All Mercedes saw was a tempting space for further infection to brew.

“I’m going to cut the eye free and heal the socket. If it stays I’m afraid it’ll get reinfected,” said Mercedes. She was explaining all this out loud mostly for her own benefit. Mercedes had never done surgery on a friend, but this was not the time to be passive.

“You’re sure there is no way to fix it with magic?” Dedue was staring at Mercedes knife with apprehension.

Mercedes sighed, “Magic will help to seal things up and eliminate the existing infection, but it can’t conjure up everything that’s needed. The eye is very complicated, and magic can only really draw from what’s there. I can reattach a finger right away when it’s been cut off, but I can’t regrow it.”

Dimitri let out a small groan. _Goddess, how were the concoctions already fading?_ It had to be his crest. Mercedes knew she had to work quickly because she didn’t have enough supplies to keep him sedated for long, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get this thing out.”

As Mercedes lowered her thin, razor sharp surgical knife into the orbit, Dimitri began to squirm, “Dedue, keep him still.” Mercedes continued as quickly as she could as she trimmed away the contents from the sidewalls of the orbit. Every cut felt like a mistake and more than once she had to stop to suck out the blood pooling in the socket. Eventually the eyeball was free, save for the great big stalk leading back into Dimitri’s brain. By now though the concoctions were almost faded and Dimitri was moving more than ever and beginning to moan in pain. It was heartbreaking to hear it but Mercedes didn’t have time to linger on those thoughts.

“Ingrid, keep his head from moving.” Mercedes took a deep breath and severed the connection before flooding the bloody area with a vulnerary.

Dimitri’s crest lit up at that as he tried to throw Dedue off of him. Yet in his weakened state he was no match for his friends who kept him firmly pinned. Mercedes kept up her assault of healing spells as she pressed the eyelids tight against what she had left inside his orbit. Her eyes clouded with dark spots and the compulsion to vomit tightened in her throat as her magic forced the skin to scar over and eliminate any lingering pockets of infection. What was left when the green glow finally faded was scarred over skin from his eye lids stretched tight inside his now empty eye socket. It was hard to look at but, it wouldn’t get reinfected. She had succeeded.

With shaky hands, Mercedes opened up her canteen until Dedue took it off her, “Please, allow me.”

Wordlessly, Ingrid helped to prop Dimitri up against herself as Dedue tipped the water down the prince’s throat. He didn’t struggle as his friends held him. Mercedes was amazed by the silent teamwork Ingrid and Dedue now found themselves engaged in, when she was sure a year ago there would be only silent resentment.

Mercedes felt Dimitri’s head and found it a little cooler from all the magic. “He’s going to need to keep resting. You should try making a bone broth if you can manage.”

“I’ll go hunting,” said Ingrid.

“I know how to cook it,” said Dedue.

“Give him a vulnerary every couple hours after the concoctions run out, that will help clear up any lingering infection.” Mercedes steadied herself as she started to unpack up her supplies for them to keep, “I have to get back before anyone notices I’ve been gone.”

“Do you need an escort?” asked Dedue.

“No, no stay here and take care of him. Besides it would be very bad if you were caught, but thank you,” said Mercedes softly. She didn’t think Dedue would harm her, but she was still wary about how Ingrid had seemed to threaten her.

“Thank you for taking the risk to come out here,” whispered Dedue as he hugged Mercedes once more. To her surprise, Ingrid joined in and the three held each other in silence for a few moments. Yet Mercedes knew she couldn’t linger much longer if she was going to get back before the woods grew too dark.

Mercedes was freezing as she walked in the shrinking light with only a small fire spell in her hand to light the way. She felt numb, not from the cold, but from sights of the day. She was used to seeing horrible things, but instead of letting them fester in her mind she usually tried to focus on the good things in life. As a child she had grown up surrounded by carcasses — livestock, game, occasionally people — and a family that celebrated that natural order of strength above all else. Yet the Bartels’ estate was also a place of wildflowers, of small animals to play with, of her brother and ghost stories shared in the dead of night. She cherished the wonderful, and safely tucked away the bad.

In Fhirdiad she had seen poverty first hand, and discrimination rampant through its streets. Yet she was also safe there, thanks in no small part to the Church of Seiros. Fhirdiad was far from perfect, but it was the place she chose to see as home. She had watched as the Duscarians in the city, so easily picked out by their appearances, were pushed into a heavily patrolled cramped city block. News carried of the subjugation of their lands in retaliation for their apparent regicide. Then came the stamping out of rebellion in the west, and Mercedes had passively swallowed down the message that this was the natural order of things. The church was good, and protected her from the bad, so if the church approved of a slaughter, then it must be for a reason.

At Garreg Mach she was in the heart of her religion, surrounded by friends and immersed in new things to learn. It felt like destiny, and a purpose given to her by Sothis’ own hand. Mercedes was a distinguished student, despite being a commoner; the Goddess had given her this crest and now she finally had a meaningful way to honor that gift. However, between the lessons and the joy, she’d seen students turned into demonic beasts, and her own brother trying to kill her friends. Was that destiny too? What did it mean if people — people she loved — were destined to do bad things? She’d witnessed executions of those voicing opposition and outright rebelling against the church. Shamefully she’d accepted it then as the Goddess’ will, but Mercedes was no longer willing to kill in the name of a deity that appeared to reward some and punish others, for seemingly no rhyme or reason.

This was the fabric that her life had been cut from and today stood out like a needle pushing through the cloth straight into her finger, over, and over again. _If you’re still a Blue Lion beneath that Adrestian uniform_ …Those lines had begun to blur and she wasn’t sure what she was anymore. Not a Black Eagle, but maybe not exactly a Blue Lion. This was how she’d always been; not a Bartels but not much of a Martritz, not a noble but not exactly a commoner, too hot blooded for Faerghus, but too modest for Adresia.

Her hands itched with the phantom feeling of the dark magic she’d cast at her lowest point. Mercedes paused and let her black magic flame extinguish. She focused on the easiest, most basic dark magic spell, Mire, and let it bubble in her hands. Mercedes wanted to know why killing with dark magic left gruesome scars behind, when killing with anything else only seemed to scar the soul. Dark magic hurt to use, and somehow that was cathartic; it was something bad that for once in her life she could control. Mercedes let Mire fizzle out. When she used faith magic she drew from things outside herself, friendship, the Church, her crest, trust in something bigger. Now she understood that when she used dark magic it wasn’t about being in pain or being sad or angry, it was about control. It was lack of trust in something bigger, and instead trust in herself above the goddess; that was why it was punished. Apparently there were things the Goddess wouldn’t forgive after all.

As Mercedes closed in on the monastery she began to come up with her cover for why she’d been gone and why she had lost so many concoctions and vulneraries. Mercedes’ stark white apron was already stained with blood so she’d tell them she was attacked and robbed in the Abyss. Maybe she’d gotten lost too to account for all the missed time and why she was out in the woods now. However she’d have to make herself look more convincing. With great reluctance Mercedes stared at a particularly rough looking tree and braced herself for the pain she was about to inflict. First she used her knife to start a hole the shoulder of her dress, and then she ripped the front of uniform with all her might before slamming herself into the trunk. Mercedes caught her scream in her throat as she felt the abrasion and knew a bruise would be there soon enough. She silently cried as she further scraped her brow along the tree. Her fingers came away bloody from touching her stinging eyebrow and she prayed this was worth the pain.

She was stopped by soldiers on patrol as she got close to the monastery. Mercedes held up her kit, emblazoned with the Adrestian eagle, “I work in the infirmary, please help me, I was attacked down in the tunnels.” The lie came out easily, just like her tears. She felt like a hypocrite for having lectured Ingrid about forgiveness when she herself was stepping deeper and deeper into deception of those around her and more worrisome, of her own heart. Helping Dimitri was an easy, natural choice, but if it came down to him or her brother Mercedes wasn’t sure who she would jump to help first. She prayed that she never found herself in such a situation.

Mercedes was guided to the infirmary which looked like it had recently been in chaos. Caspar was laying bandaged and unconscious in one of the beds looking ashen. What could only be Hubert in the next bed was a huddled mass beneath a quilt with only his dark hair sticking out to give him away. Mercedes didn’t get a very good look at either before Manuela, who looked more than a little harangued, intercepted her. Manuela stared at Mercedes with an expression that went from shock to rage, “What happened to you? Who did this?”

Mercedes found she was shaking from her nerves and the cold, “I, I was mugged. It was a trap, there wasn’t anyone that needed my help. I was just lured down there so they could steal the concoctions.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” said Manuela fiercely as she held Mercedes close to lead her behind a privacy screen. “Did you get a good look at the scoundrels?”

“They ran off. I’m not even sure they were from the Abyss, they might have just been passing thieves.” The last thing she needed was someone falsely accused of hurting her. _Clumsy, hapless Mercedes, too kind, so easily taken advantage of_. Mercedes hated leaning into her reputation but she needed to be as convincing as possible. “I know they must have been desperate, but, I don’t understand why anyone would do this.”

“Bastards,” muttered Manuela with venom in her words as she healed Mercedes’ forehead. Her eyes lingered on Mercedes’ torn and dirty uniform, “Did they touch you?”

“Not like that,” whispered Mercedes as the pain began to fade into a familiar numbness.

Manuela still looked angry, but also a little relieved at that. “I’m glad you’re not still down in there, who knows when you would have been found.”

Manuela helped Mercedes out of her clothes and ordered up a hot bath while she worked on the large abraded patch on Mercedes shoulder. Manuela stepped out to give Mercedes some privacy as she went to fetch a nightgown. Mercedes wearily scrubbed over the new scar and the painful bruise she’d given herself. Manuela and the soldiers on patrol seemed to buy her story, and hopefully that meant that it wouldn’t get investigated too much further.

Manuela came back with clean clothes and a flask, “Do you want whiskey or a sleeping draught?”

“Whiskey’s fine,” murmured Mercedes as she accepted a shot from Manuela’s personal stock. It burned her throat but in a pleasant way that washed her over with a sense of detached calmness. Manuela folded the privacy screens back as Mercedes took a seat on her bed and looked at Capsar. “What happened?”

Manuela pulled up a chair and sighed, “There was an attack down in the Abyss. Hubert and Caspar got trapped in some sort of pit and set upon by ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” reiterated Mercedes in disbelief. She loved ghost stories, but the idea of being attacked by real ghosts was something else entirely. She hadn’t even been aware that was possible. “They summoned ghosts?”

Manuela nodded. “You don’t have to whisper. Caspar’s on a mess of concoctions and I forced Hubert to take half a sleeping potion.”

“Will they be alright?” Mercedes felt a little guilty purposefully injuring herself when there were people in here that actually needed Manuela’s attention.

“Caspar, well, he took an axe to the chest but Hubert stabilized him for long enough for Linhardt to reach them,” explained Manuela.

Mercedes covered her mouth as she listened; part of her was screaming at herself that she should been here to do her job, and another part was screaming back that she had been where she was truly needed. Manuela took Mercedes’ other hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “Actually, it was your brother that ended up saving them. You know, I’m not going to lie, I had some _bad_ feelings towards Jeritza.”

“I understand,” mumbled Mercedes. Everyone seemed to. She could practically hear Ingrid cursing him echoing in her head.

“But, he actually apologized to me earlier tonight,” said Manuela. “It was so sincere and heartfelt! Kind of a letdown if I’m being honest, I was hoping to give him a piece of my mind, maybe even a revenge stab, but not after an apology like that.” Manuela gave Mercedes a small smile, “I think I finally see the family resemblance.”

Mercedes wasn’t sure if it was Manuela’s words or whiskey that made her burst into tears. “Thank you for saying something nice about him,” she finally managed as Manuela hugged her. It meant far more than she thought it would to hear someone say something good about Emile, and to know that someone else could see him beneath his mask of the Death Knight.

“Honey, you’ve had a long day, you should really rest,” whispered Manuela as she stroked Mercedes back and continued to hug her. “Do you want that other half of a sleeping draught?” Mercedes nodded, anything to escape seemed good right now.

When Mercedes woke up hours later the infirmary was still and dark save for the bright moonlight filtering in from outside. She’d missed two meals and was both starving and extremely thirsty. As Mercedes’ senses adjusted to the darkness she realized she wasn’t the only one awake. Hubert was sitting hunched over at Caspar’s bedside and holding the unconscious grappler’s hand to his forehead, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mercedes was shocked to hear the wet sound of his voice. “I shouldn’t have told you to shut up. I shouldn’t have criticized you.” He let out a little laugh that bled into a sob, “Turns out, your shouting is vital. I was wrong. So please don’t die because we need you to yell at us on the battlefield.”

She cleared her throat to make her presence known, and Hubert looked up with quick shock as Mercedes got out of bed and crept over. He quickly put Caspar’s hand back and wiped his eyes as if to hide the fact that he was capable of feeling an attachment to anyone but Edelgard. “It’s sweet of you to sit with him,” said Mercedes gently. Mercedes adjusted the blanket over Caspar as she tried to assess the state of his injuries, “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

Hubert sighed as he looked at Caspar and lightly conjured up an extremely weak looking healing spell to cast over his friend. Mercedes was struck by the sight of it. While it was not impressive on its own, it was noteworthy because of the caster. “You finally found something that makes you happy?”

Hubert looked up at her with an expression of having just been caught with a secret as the spell flickered and died. “Sorry to have woken you up,” he whispered.

He looked like he needed a warm beverage and a sympathetic ear, and she frankly did too. “Do you want to take tea with me?”

“I don’t wish to bother you,” said Hubert softly. From his tone it seemed like he was already composing himself to mask away any feelings.

“It’s not a bother,” insisted Mercedes. It felt like the right thing to do. She herself was on the verge of tears still thinking about her friends out in the wilds trying to care for each other. She didn’t want to be alone, or she was afraid she was going to break down with nothing to distract her from this despair. “Please, I insist.”

He tentatively followed her into the little break room where Mercedes kept a tea set. “What about Manuela?” Hubert’s words were barely audible. Manuela was passed out in the little bed in the back and snoring softly. Mercedes was pretty sure it was supposed to be her turn for the night shift this evening, and she was extremely grateful Manuela had taken it instead.

Mercedes risked talking, “She’s a very heavy sleeper.” Mercedes lit up a candle and began preparing a tea pot as she boiled the water with black magic. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a particularly relaxing blend and a tin containing cake. It wasn’t a meal but it was something.

“I didn’t realized you cared so much about Caspar,” whispered Mercedes. She figured it was best not to actually wake up Manuela, who was also notoriously cranky when her beauty sleep was interrupted.

“I didn’t either,” admitted Hubert as he leaned against the wall and watched her preparing a little cart. His eyes were lingering on the bruise and small scar that Mercedes was sure was on her brow.

“I know you don’t really care for tea, but this is an herbal blend, and it always makes me feel better,” said Mercedes as she selected two tea cups. Her hands were shaking as she did it, and she hoped he didn’t notice. She motioned for him to follow as she pushed the cart back into the infirmary and towards her bed.

Mercedes sat cross legged so she could lean against the headboard and patted the other side of her so he’d do the same. “Aren’t you going to get crumbs in the bed?” Hubert was looking at the cozy spot and the uncomfortable wooden chair nearby. Mercedes reached over to put the cake tin on the chair to eliminate the option.

“I’m sure I’ll survive a few cake crumbs,” said Mercedes as she ate the slightly stale cake. “I’m so hungry I’d even eat Daphnel stew.”

Hubert had a tiny smirk on his face as he took the spot beside her, “I hate that dish too.”

“Do you like the tea?” It was chamomile, and it always made her feel extra relaxed.

“It’s awful,” he deadpanned. It was not his usual sharp sarcasm; he seemed subdued and weighed down.

“And yet you keep drinking it,” she said as she watched him take another sip.

“It’s not the worst tea,” admitted Hubert as he set his teacup aside on the nightstand. He was staring at her, “Why are you sleeping here tonight?”

Mercedes felt a shameful flush crossing her face as her lies and cover story flooded her mind, “I um, I was robbed in the Abyss by a couple of thieves.” She felt a little ill considering the real reason. She also felt repulsive for lying so much today, but here she was.

In the candlelight she could see the growing concern on his face, “What?” She was surprised to feel his hand finding hers and holding it tightly. “Who? What did they do to you—”

“I’m fine, really. They just wanted the concoctions I had. They only gave me rough handling and ran off,” said Mercedes. “But, I got lost and ended up wandering the tunnels until I ended up in the woods,” said Mercedes as she set her teacup back on the cart. She didn’t want him questioning her about it lest she spill the real story. Just the thought of accidentally giving up her friends was bringing tears to her eyes. Mercedes attempted to switch the subject, “So you can do heal now, that’s a huge improvement.” Mercedes as she recalled how impossible it had seemed for him back in school. “What did you end up thinking about?”

Hubert was staring at her with a pensive expression, “I was thinking about you.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes, unable to contain her surprise at the ease with which the confession slid from him. Had he not just been telling her to move on and find someone better to desire her? “What exactly were you thinking about me?”

“Kissing you,” he murmured, the shame in his voice was impossible to miss. He reached out and Mercedes felt the strange cool sensation of his healing magic upon her bruise; everyone had a signature feel to their magic, Linhardt felt like an inoffensive probing, Manuela like a big sloppy kiss, and Mercedes apparently like eating bread fresh from the oven. Hubert’s felt like cold paint brushed upon her injury.

Her eyes met his and found them filled with a mix of anticipation and reservation. She swallowed as she leaned in and was met with his lips pressing back into hers. This was not the polite, tame kiss they’d shared at the ball a year before. It was unrestrained with their mouths still overly hot from the tea. Mercedes felt his hand finding her waist as he went in more deeply. She let herself relax into his embrace as she dared to press against him. For a moment she was allowed to ignore what she’d seen that day and focus instead on a growing warmth within her. Then in an instant he was letting her go and pulling back like he could not catch his breath.

“It’s alright,” she whispered as she realized Hubert was probably still shaken up over whatever he’d seen that day too. She herself still felt numb after what she’d had to do today, and the kiss had been the first thing that had truly felt nice since the afternoon. She looked back up at him and wished his arms would just encircle her, “Are you afraid of me?” Mercedes did not know how else to read his body language. He felt tense and wanting, and yet completely apprehensive.

“I’m afraid of what I’m feeling,” said Hubert. His words were low and honest, “I am not used to desiring anyone, at all.” He seemed to be fighting himself internally as the words struggled free, “Rationally, you are the last person I ought to want to be with. Our goals, our values, our backgrounds do not align, they scrape and break against each other. And irrationally, it makes me want to contort into a shape that fits into your world without glaringly standing out as something that cannot belong.”

“We’re both here now, let’s not over complicate it,” whispered Mercedes. She felt her emotions spiraling, “Don’t you ever just want to forget about everything for a little bit—”

He interrupted her with another kiss. Mercedes was probably too eager to shift her body into his lap. He was something solid and real to focus on instead of the swirling despair over having done field surgery on a friend. His hands slid down to her hips where they seemed content to rest as she ground against him. There was a certain thrill in feeling him getting aroused through their clothes and knowing that she was the one responsible for it. She silently she took hold of one of his hands and guided him up and into her night gown. Hubert drew back and stared at her with confusion.

“I just want to feel something good today,” Mercedes whispered. Anything to distract herself, even if only momentarily.

“Are you sure this is what you want, with me?” She could barely hear him. “In here?”

“Please don’t make me beg you for it.” She hated sounding this desperate, but this was successfully keeping her mind from sliding into the intrusive visions of removing Dimitri’s eye. “It’s just one night.” He didn’t move and Mercedes felt a pang of frustration laced with disappointment that this was never going to progress anywhere, “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but this is the last time I’m asking.” This was it, no more passively waiting for him to make a move, if he kept deflecting she was giving up.

His face was hard to read but he didn’t attempt to dissuade her any further as he shifted her from his lap to her back. His fingers slid up her thigh her as he began to kiss her neck. Mercedes tried not to make too much noise as she ran her nails down his back. “There, you’re there,” whispered Mercedes in his ear as soon as his fingers had finally begun to rub the right spot. Everything she had seen, smelled, and heard that day faded as the sensation of being pleasured ramped up within her. The chilly forest was replaced with a steaming breath along her neck and sweat building upon her skin. Dimitri’s pained cries gave way to her own held back moans. The broken blue eye was exchanged for two intense green ones focused solely on her. She kept her sounds of pleasure trapped in her throat as the pain of roughing herself up slipped to the precipice of over stimulation at the mercy of his hand.

Their pajamas never fully came off as Mercedes pulled the hem of her nightgown up just as high as it needed to go and loosened the ties of his pants. After a few moments of getting his bearings Mercedes felt him spreading her open to enter and ease inside. She was a little uncomfortable as she adjusted to the feeling of being deeply penetrated after years of her own fingers barely reaching in. Then things gave way to a familiar full feeling. Their movements were awkward at first as they tested out how to hold themselves and each other, communing in silent taps and shifts rather than risk making too much noise. Hubert’s motions were slow and deliberate at first as they worked out an agreeable rhythm.

Mercedes reached up to push his hair out of his face to really look at him in full; no one had seen her like this in a long time. She saw a small smile flit across his lips as he carefully took her hand from his face and laced their fingers together before pinning it down into the mattress. She always felt so warm and sensitive during sex, and right now Hubert was hard and cool against her. For a while he was holding her gaze until he gave up, finally too lost in his own experience. She felt his other hand moving up along her hip as he started to move faster with more fervor.

“Yes, please, like that,” she panted as she adjusted her legs around him to her liking. Mercedes let out a small satisfied groan as he started to finally move in a way that truly rubbed her right. She shut her eyes as she focused on the building sensations and tried not to pay too much mind to the gentle rhythmic slapping sound of their bodies against each other of the little grunts escaping him. It was as quiet as they could possibly be; Manuela’s steady snoring could be heard in the next room and Caspar was plied with too many concoctions to have any semblance of awareness. Mercedes bit back the moans she wanted to let out in favor of discretion, eventually bringing up her hand to help muffle the noises she couldn’t help but let out. That only seemed to increase the intensity of Hubert’s thrusting.

Then suddenly he was pulling out, barely in time judging by the hot mess he was leaving on her, and Mercedes found herself wishing it wasn’t over so abruptly when she had felt like they had just come to the right way for their bodies to move with each other. Hubert was apologetically and ineffectively attempting to wipe her off with his fingers though his expression looked like his brain was still catching up with the present. He looked around and let out a weak sigh at what he realized what he was doing, “I don’t suppose there any handkerchiefs around?”

“There’s washcloths and water pitcher over there,” she gestured lazily in it’s direction as she started to sit up. “Are you telling me you usually use your handkerchiefs to mop up after you um, you know—”

He only responded with a sharp exhale through his nose as he started pouring water into a porcelain basin. It was for hand washing, but it would suffice for this. She watched him in the moonlight as he moved, shadows spilling over his slim frame. He dipped his hand in and shut his eyes, and Mercedes saw the red glimmer of black magic. She didn’t want to be too pleased with herself for having tutored him in spell work, but she was glad he wasn’t bringing her an icy towel.

Hubert returned to the bed to clean her leg up. He moved with a slow reverence in way that reminded her of how Felix cleaned his sword at the end of a battle. “Sorry for the untimely exit. You sounded,” his voice trailed off as if he were unwilling to breathe life into that thought. He focused on cleaning himself instead of speaking.

“I was enjoying what you were doing right at the end there,” said Mercedes, careful to avoid suggesting she was disappointed that he’d stopped right as she was finally feeling it. She nibbled at her lip as she wondered if she could just get him to start there next time. _Next time_. Mercedes’ heart picked up speed as she wondered to herself if this was an exchange that had a next time, and what it meant that she was already making machinations for it.

Mercedes shifted in the bed, clearly meant for one person, to make some room for him. He looked at the space with hesitation. Mercedes jokingly patted the spot as if to invite him in. “You don’t want to cuddle,” she said as she watched him standing there still and tense. Perhaps that didn’t surprise her at all, he did not seem the type.

He was frozen for a few moments before he settled in next to her. Mercedes gently manipulated his body to create a little space for herself between his arm and his chest. Here, with her ear flush against him, she could really hear the fast beating of his heart. The heat between them was receding, leaving her with gooseflesh in the chilly infirmary. Mercedes reached to pull up the sheets and quilt over them and snuggled against him with her face. He wasn’t especially comfortable, but Mercedes resisted the temptation to tell him he ought to have eaten a stale slice of cake with her. She idly wondered if he was going to fill out as the war continued and what he might look like if he did.

He didn’t have anything to say, which didn’t surprise her, and so Mercedes settled in to sleep. It felt like if she was in his arms she was hidden from the nightmares of the things she had done earlier that day. The sights were waiting for her in the back of her mind, but if she had something to focus on like tracing his ribs through his shirt, they couldn’t take hold of her mind as she drifted off. It was a sleep where Mercedes felt like she shut her eyes and immediately opened them in the morning and no time had passed at all. She was alone in bed as she sat up to stretch and look around. Hubert was totally gone from the infirmary, and if not for a telltale soreness in her thighs she might have thought it was all a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hubert’s probably just out getting them coffee and breakfast sandwiches  and not having a meltdown somewhere…


	26. Pretending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert reflects on what he's done, and what he's going to do about it. Also, Arundel has arrived for his visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that Anselma is Edelgard's mother's original name, revealed in the Hapi/Dimitri support chain DLC

Mercedes fell asleep with no trouble at all while Hubert had never been more awake and aware. The big clock tower emitted five somber rings and Hubert could hear a patrolling guard walking through the hall. The longer he lingered beside her, the greater the risk they would be caught sharing a bed. The last hour kept echoing in his mind as he kept trying to rationalize what he had just done. For as much as he desired her, he wished the circumstances that had collided them were completely different.

Mercedes had wanted a distraction that felt good. Hubert had eagerly given her one, even though he felt directly responsible for the situation she was in. She had said she would never ask him again if he refused her, and having had yet another close call, Hubert had abandoned sensibility and restraint to make love to her. He had forgotten, or perhaps repressed, how lovely, wet, and warm sex felt. Then there was the sounds she was trying not to make that crossed her lips anyway. He could feel a strange tingling in his jaw now as he thought about them and how much he’d like to hear them again. Hubert stared at the ceiling, _again_. He wasn’t certain there would be an again to this exchange.

He had felt clumsy and unpracticed when he climbed on top of her. It had been nearly two years since he’d had sex with the prostitute his father hired for him. While he had engaged in a couple positions in the course of a long night, even at nineteen it wasn’t as if he was still eager after three orgasms in as many hours. He knew the bare basics and had no one to ask about anything more complicated. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was built for anything more complicated. Hubert wondered how apparent all this was to Mercedes.

He felt even more inexperienced now with one arm pinned beneath Mercedes and her body contouring along his. He’d never slept beside someone before, and with his heart still pounding Hubert doubted he would be drifting off anytime soon. With his free hand he pinched the bridge of nose as he wondered if she had even enjoyed his limited move set. He felt distinctly less than average in this moment of post coital clarity. His body was still recovering not just from being stabbed but now from fighting ghosts, and it was not as if he’d ever been accused of being handsome. Even in the midst of things when Mercedes had brushed his hair aside and tried to look at him he had to stop her; he was inside her and somehow felt vulnerable in the act of being seen.

Hubert consoled himself with the hope that if she’d hated it she’d not have invited him to lay here with her. She was softly snoring into his chest in a way that made it seem like their bodies were permanently entangled with no hopes of getting free. If he moved too much he feared she would wake up. However no scenario he ran through in his head looked good for him if someone saw this. Somehow he didn’t think anyone would buy the narrative that she had come on to him, because why would she? _Why did she?_ Hubert had to get out of this bed and out of his own head.

Yet he didn’t want to disappoint her with waking up alone. _Just one night_. Maybe she wouldn’t be disappointed, maybe she expected him to go? However if that were true she probably wouldn’t have so effectively captured him now beneath her arms and legs. Her body was impossibly soft against him and part of Hubert wished he could just let himself sleep like this and accept the consequences if they came. He wanted to kiss her awake in the morning light and get out of their night clothes completely to do things properly and slowly. However every little noise and bump in the night made his heart race at the prospect of being discovered twisted up with her. There definitely wouldn’t be a round two in the morning, especially if Manuela walked in and saw them.

Hubert finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to get up. He maneuvered free of Mercedes, who might have missed a snore but did not wake, and left her tucked in the bed as he crept through the silent infirmary. Hubert gave a fleeting look at Caspar, immobilized by concoctions, and decided to leave the infirmary completely. He rummaged through his things until he found his keys in the pockets of his ruined clothes. At the rate he was encountering bodily fluids he was going to need a whole new wardrobe before spring.

Though the blood was long since washed off him, Hubert still felt stained. His heart hurt; he’d been extra short tempered with Caspar down in the Abyss all day. Yet Caspar hadn’t hesitated to jump in harm’s way to help him. Had Hubert managed to make a friend, a real one, other than Edelgard? Some friend he was for putting Caspar in danger needlessly because they were both being impatient. Linhardt was likely to stay furious with him, and so Hubert planned to avoid the healer as much as possible until things cooled down.

The walk to his room was freezing in the simple flannel pajamas provided in the infirmary. The sun would be up soon enough and Hubert figured he was staying awake after all. His mind was too filled with guilt and apprehension to even lay down in his bed. Instead Hubert changed for the day, and hoped his sweater and some school uniform pants would suffice to receive Arundel later. He grabbed his little brooch that had once belonged to his grandfather and put it on in a vain attempt at looking more formal.

Without thinking he opened the top drawer of his desk and loosened the false bottom. Inside the hidden compartment lay his precious contraband: a small amount of tobacco and rolling papers. He supposed he no longer had to hide these things now that random room inspections performed by Seteth were a thing of the past, but old habits died hard. The Vestras all smoked, though like everything else they did it primarily in the shadows. His grandfather had preferred a pipe, his father cigars, and Hubert had learned to roll cigarettes from his grandmother as a teen. It wasn’t considered a polite habit but damn if he didn’t enjoy it now and then. Even as he rolled himself one, then two for good measure, he knew the tobacco would be stale.

Hubert smoked more than his fair share of secret cigarettes during school. The start of the war had actually been an odd relief for his stress levels because he didn’t have to hide every movement, and so he hadn’t been reaching for them quite as often. He had tried one of his father’s cigars after burying him and found it too awkward and large in his fingers, and lasting for far too long. He had his grandfather’s pipe as a memento, but he’d never actually tried using it. So Hubert stuck with his little cigarettes here and there to take off the edge as needed.

Hubert ended up skulking at the walls of the training grounds as he enjoyed the silence of the morning. His mind quieted and emptied out as he focused on the warmth spreading on his lips. He had made love to Mercedes von Martritz, and he was not quite sure what to do about it. If anyone found out they had slept together he had a good idea of what they would think. She was a conscripted healer, and even if her faith was no longer strong the image of it was. Hubert shut his eyes as he finished his first cigarette. He was a devil in the shadows, corruption, vice. Hubert considered the little leftover nub that was too small to smoke before incinerating it with a spell. He immediately lit his second cigarette.

 _Inhale_. Mercedes was well liked, sympathetic, and desirable. _Exhale_. He was not any of those things. If anything, sleeping with her strengthened the image of darkness and disregard for decency that he was attempting to cultivate. There was nothing he would not do if he dared to tarnish something so pure. _Inhale_. He knew her reputation didn’t quite match perfectly with her actions. _Exhale_. In his snooping on his classmates he had been passingly interested to learn she was at Garreg Mach because she had an affair with an engaged man. _Inhale_. He had merely taken this information as permission to watch her a little more closely since she was practiced at keeping secrets. _Exhale_. There had been the risk she would recognize her brother and begin asking questions, but she never did. _Inhale_. He supposed at the very least she understood when to keep quiet.

Hubert felt cold save for the burning in his lungs as his subjective fears rolled into objective observations within his head. He tipped his head back to exhale the smoke and look at the last couple stars still visible in the lightening sky. Having this tryst found out wouldn’t _actually_ hurt him, not on the surface anyway. People might pity her, but they already reviled him. The people he ordered around didn’t follow him out of respect, they did so out of fear. His enemies already hated him, so what did he care what they thought?

Edelgard’s eyebrows would rise, but it was hard to know if she’d actually get mad. She might even applaud the twisted optics of it. He paused with the surprising realization that he cared what Ferdinand would think. Ferdinand fretted over a first kiss, and he would likely be appalled at the idea of casual sex in a public place. Hubert cared what Caspar would think, given that he’d only been ten feet away at the time. Linhardt had no right to judge but Petra and Dorothea might not look at him the same. He’d have to hide it from them all, which felt bad, but he’d hid planning a whole war. He could hide something as small as this.

Hubert felt much calmer now; perhaps this was something he shouldn’t be so worried about. The sex, just like the kiss before it, had been nothing more a spontaneous and meaningless gesture. He wondered if like the kiss it was bound to be a one time occurrence. The ever looming threat of death seemed to be crushing down more than ever upon him, and Hubert would be lying to himself if he didn’t wonder what it would be like to have a _someone_. His feelings still felt decidedly one sided, but perhaps that was for the best. He didn’t want to get close to anyone who might miss him. Perhaps his heart craved Mercedes because it knew the risk of her falling for him was zero, and therefore there was no fear of hurting her when his dark magic inevitably destroyed him. She only wanted to use him for physical acts, and Hubert was at peace now with letting her. This felt like the closest he’d ever get to emotional intimacy with another person, even if it was only pretend. It seemed an equal enough transaction.

Hubert’s attention snapped to softly approaching footsteps heading his way. Jeritza was in all black, with the strange Rafail gem around his neck. At least one person had made out well in yesterday’s debacle. Hubert supposed if there was anyone he’d strongly prefer did not learn of his little tangle with Mercedes, it was her brother. If Mercedes was unpredictable, Jeritza was pure chaos. He might not care or he might care very deeply and Hubert wasn’t interested in finding out either way.

Jeritza had been dispatched to create a disturbance in the sealed forest to distract Arundel upon his arrival. Hubert found he had little sympathy for his own battalion. They came to him through Arundel, and Hubert knew his orders were only followed when they aligned with the Regent’s. Jeritza’s tone was as even as ever, “It is done.”

Hubert finished his cigarette and carefully burnt away the last evidence of it. He reached into his pockets to pull out a fresh pair of crisp white gloves to hide away his scars. “How many crest stones did you end up cracking?”

“All of them,” said Jeritza.

Hubert felt a vein in his neck bulge in distress, “All of them?”

“Every last one,” said Jeritza as a smile revealing too many teeth slowly split across his face.

“Those were not your orders,” said Hubert in disbelief. It was supposed to be two or three. “How many is ‘ _all of them_ ’?”

“I lost count, many,” said Jeritza with a shrug. “I am sending a message.”

Hubert tried his best not to show his distress, “You have put our people in danger now too, not just Arundel’s.”

“You think I cannot handle an outbreak of demonic beasts?” Jeritza’s cold blue eyes seemed to be dissecting Hubert on the spot.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” hissed Hubert. He’d already landed one friend in the infirmary. Jeritza looked nonplussed as he nodded his head as an indifferent sort of goodbye before he entered the training grounds. Whatever sense of calm smoking had given Hubert was now fading into the dreaded wait for things to go to hell out there in the forest.

At breakfast, Hubert learned that news had spread like wildfire that they had found the final resting ground of the Ten Elites. Everyone was talking about it; so much for discretion. He watched from the safe vantage of his full table as Mercedes entered the dining hall. She was dressed in her old school uniform and shawl, though her hair was still as loose as it had been in bed. She passed through to collect her food and sat with Jeritza without so much as a passing glance Hubert’s way, though he kept watching for far too long in the off chance she might look at him.

Hubert stared at his coffee to get his eyes onto anything else. The current roast they’d gotten in was very acidic. It could probably do with a little sweetness added. A little _Mercedes_. Hubert pushed the thought from his mind and just drank the coffee straight and rubbed his face. _She’s not that interested, she’s just lonely and trapped_. He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the memory of her sleeping against him. He had to figure out how to get his feelings under control because clearly their early morning romp hadn’t helped diminish them at all. It would help if he knew where they stood with each other and if there was any chance of it occurring again. Hubert’s thoughts were interrupted as an officer whispered in his ear, “The Regent’s carriage has been spotted.” Hubert mentally prepared himself to receive Arundel as he and Edelgard went to act as a greeting party.

The Emperor walked with her little boots clacking and clicking on the cobble stone with an annoyed air. “Hopefully this is not an extended visit,” said Edelgard under her breath as they rounded the corner to the gate where a fine carriage befitting the shadowy regent was just pulling up. Arundel exited looking the same as ever, but with fine little tinted spectacles. He glanced up at the sun appreciatively though his smile contained no mirth. Hubert’s grandmother Agatha exited the carriage as quickly as she could looking positively repulsed by the company she’d been keeping.

Hubert felt his blood running hot with anger at the idea of his grandmother having to share a carriage with that thing for the last three weeks. However there was no chance to ask if she was alright because Arundel was already greeting the Emperor. “How is my favorite niece?” He looked her over like someone appraising a stallion.

Edelgard’s smile was razor thin, “I will be very well when I learn why the person whose hands I trusted the care of Enbarr in is here.” It was a show for the people listening. It was not as if Edelgard had any say in what Arundel did.

“When I heard there was talk of things coming up out of the underground of this place, I became very intrigued,” said Arundel as pleasantly as he was capable of speaking. “Besides, someone had to escort Lady von Vestra and all her _curious_ bags here. It would have been a shame if anyone had set upon her on the road.”

Hubert focused on his breathing to avoid being baited. He kept his eyes on the trunks that were coming down from the roof of the carriage and how his grandmother hovered protectively over them. Hubert’s gaze narrowed in on them as he wondered what was so important to have her acting in such a manner. He was still sore that Edelgard had invited her without asking, and hadn’t even let him review the communication. Clearly she had been instructed to bring something.

“Thank you for your concern,” said Hubert dryly as he looked Arundel over. He wondered if memories from the real Arundel lingered in the thing’s brain, and if he had any visions of the Insurrection or Agatha attempting to fight her way to her family as the throne room was soaked in blood.

An unsettling smile crossed Arundel’s face as he looked Hubert over, “You look less well than when last we met. It must be tiring trying to keep up with all your crested peers.”

Hubert bowed his head to hold his tongue. There were no prizes worth having in this game, and it was best to let Arundel take the final word.

“You’ve arrived just in time for breakfast,” said Edelgard with a false geniality. “Come and join me, Hubert please settle your grandmother in Seteth’s old chambers, I will find time to receive her later. When you’re done with that, please come find us in the Cathedral.”

“Of course your majesty,” said Hubert. He waited for the emperor and regent to clear the entry way of the monastery before descending the stairs to greet his grandmother.

“Why do you look like shit?” hissed Agatha as she looked him over for the first time since the war started. He supposed she was accustomed to seeing him well fed and with enough free time to at least pretend to care about his appearance.

“I was injured recently,” said Hubert. “It wasn’t too bad.”

Agatha looked him over and did not appear impressed, “Remember I was the one who taught you how to lie.”

“We’ll discuss it inside,” said Hubert as he folded his arms and attempted to look at ease. Agatha glanced around the desolate entrance to the monastery. Though evidence of the massacre was long buried, the scars of the attack still stood out on the place. Any merchants were unlikely to return until spring and for now the entryway was quiet and empty. “What did you bring for the emperor?”

“Documents, portraits, things I had to hunt through storage for,” said Agatha. She winced as a soldier nearly dropped one of the crates, “Be careful with that.”

They walked in near silence through the monastery. It was looking less grim than it had just a few weeks prior, but it was clear something terrible had happened. The Cathedral, a burned out husk of what it once was, was oddly the most welcoming place on campus at the moment. It was beginning to feel like the center of a community of sorts as the village was slowly settled and Abyss steadily cleared out.

The main building was nearly empty in contrast. Seteth’s rooms were tasteful but boring in their decor. Flayn’s rooms, adjacent, were chaotic and had been filled with all sorts of things she’d picked up here and there. Most of their personal items were long since packed away, leaving behind an echo of a family home.

Agatha wasted no time in turning on her grandson, “What the hell happened here, to you?”

“I had a run in with the crown prince of Faerghus,” said Hubert as he shut the door. This was not a conversation to be had with potential eavesdroppers.

He and Agatha shared a strong resemblance and right now he knew the wrathful expression on her face a little too well. “I want to see,” she said as she put her hands on her hips.

“It’s not appropriate,” said Hubert.

“Oh please, like I haven’t seen it all,” snapped Agatha. “Who do you think used to bathe you?”

“I’m a grown man I’m not showing my grandmother—”

“You’re twenty one, a child barely grown. I don’t care that you’re one of the Emperor’s generals, you’re my _son_ ,” she hissed. There it was; she had stepped up to serve the role of his mother, and he had gladly let her again and again even as his father kept pushing her away. Hubert’s throat grew unexpectedly uncomfortable as he engaged in a pointless staring contest with her.

Hubert didn’t want to show his _mom_ that he’d almost died but she wasn’t going to drop it. Both were silent as he pulled up the layers of his clothes to show his grandmother where Dimitri had nearly succeeded in snuffing him out. She didn’t touch him, thankfully, but she stare at the scar with drained look upon her face. Finally she spoke in that soft and familiar voice that he so often heard as she held him through his tears growing up, “You should be resting.”

“Probably,” said Hubert as he covered up once more and took a seat. Seteth had kept a small parlor with plenty of books, apparently written by the man himself. Hubert supposed that was one way to pass the centuries. “How was your journey?”

“Don’t change the subject,” warned Agatha sharply as she took her own seat across from him.

“This is me resting.” He let his fingers knit together as he watched her, “This won’t be the last time I’m injured in the course of this war. This is but another sacrifice in the name of Adrestia.”

“I’ve already given a husband and a son to Adrestia,” said Agatha as bitterness seeped her words. “I don’t want to give you up too.”

Hubert said nothing; his life was not hers to keep. Instead it was onto official business, “The Emperor summoned you here to answer some questions about her mother. There was a strange threat left for Lady Edelgard, accusing her of killing Anselma. Do you know what became of her, ultimately?”

Agatha shut her eyes, “Anselma was caught trying to leave with Edelgard months before the Insurrection reached Enbarr. That was when Ionius released her as a consort and declared their marriage void. What a massive shift that was from when they first met.”

“They met here at Garreg Mach,” clarified Hubert. It was a point of pride to Edelgard that her parents had not been arranged but had chosen each other, though given the massive age difference between Ionius and Anselma, the match had never quite sat right with Hubert.

“What a scandal that was,” grumbled Agatha.

“What that they met in the goddess tower?”

“No, that they fucked each other in the goddess tower. That brother of hers, the real one, was understandably outraged. Of course she had to be made a consort, you can’t have the Emperor going around knocking up underage noble girls right under the Archbishop’s nose. Then when Edelgard was born with a crest of Seiros it was like a moment of religious awakening,” sneered Agatha. “The Emperor suggested the Goddess had brought them together and blessed their union.” Her voice dripped with incredulity at the claim. She shook her head with frustration. “The Empress was livid, probably because her children were the only crested ones until then, but even they didn’t have the crest of Seiros. Then the succession got all messy. It was an absolute nightmare.”

“Would it be possible for you to clean that story up a bit to deliver to the Emperor?” asked Hubert.

“I’m not stupid,” said Agatha with a warning glint in her eyes. “Anselma was kind, I’ll give her that, she loved children, but she was not clever in the slightest. As for what became of her, she just disappeared. Volkhard took Edelgard to Fhirdiad though, so I would be surprised if Anselma was not close by. It would have made sense for her to remarry, she bore a child with a very promising crest and she was still young, that would have made her a high value bride. My guess is she probably married in a hurry for protection and took a new name.”

Hubert pondered that information but he had no idea who might have been seeking a spouse in Faerghus in 1171. He thought about the evidence that Dimitri was behind the attack, and wondered if that was a connection. “Do you think Anselma might have been at court in Fhirdiad?”

Agatha pursed her lips, “It’s likely. You know your grandfather had spies there, some of them might have sent information to him before the Insurrection.” Agatha sighed as a look of realization crossed her face, “Now I think understand why the Emperor requested Bertram’s journals. She suggested you were looking into something and might find them useful, care to enlighten me?”

“I’m interested in dark mages involved in Adrestian politics,” said Hubert as neutrally as he could manage. He’d be surprised if mages in beaked masks murdering her son and husband did not haunt her dreams given how often they trampled through his.

“I’d lecture you on being careful, but you’re a stubborn as they come von Vestra and I know you won’t listen,” said Agatha with disapproval. “Well, make sure to keep those journals protected, there aren’t copies and I’m sure there are plenty of secrets in those pages. I found all of Bert’s notes stretching back to 1138.” She wore a unfamiliar look upon her face, one of reservation. Agatha was normally so sure and poised that it was strange to see her looking conflicted, “As you read his words, try to remember these journals were meant to be just for him. They’re a very honest look inside his head. Some times it’s not a pretty picture.”

Hubert wasn’t sure he was ready for an honest portrait of his hero. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He was feeling restless, “Do you need breakfast? I’ve already eaten but—”

“I understand, you’re busy,” said Agatha softly as she watched him. “Are you making any time for yourself?”

Hubert thought of kissing Mercedes in the dead of night, “Yes, here and there.” He didn’t want to explore the topic too deeply, “Well, the Emperor has asked that I meet her and Arundel in the Cathedral, but I can show you the dining hall.”

“I can figure it out myself,” Agatha assured him. “Go, don’t keep them waiting.” He did not enjoy the expression she had while watching him; it was much like someone looking at a portrait of a loved one who was long dead.

On his way, Hubert made a quick detour to the infirmary. From the doorway he could see Caspar was still passed out. Linhardt sat looking listless at his bedside. The other mage’s eyes came up to bore into Hubert with total fury. Hubert decided it best not to disturb them. He would rather catch Caspar when he was lucid anyway. He had a massive apology to give.

The Cathedral was bustling with people still moving up from the Abyss. Arundel and Edelgard had yet to arrive so Hubert busied himself with small tasks instead. He knew he ought to talk to Mercedes, to clear the air, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Eventually when he ran out of little things to do, Hubert leaned against a pillar near the makeshift infirmary that had been set up in the Cathedral. Mercedes was looking over children as they came up. She seemed so natural working with them. She knew how to talk to them without making a very big change seemed scary. It was a skill Hubert envied; he only knew how to make things more frightful.

Mercedes was smiling as she carefully palpated the child’s jaw. She effortlessly made small talk about favorite games as she checked them over, “And you’re done, all healthy!” She reached to grab a cookie to present to the wide eyed Abyss child, “For you, for being so good.” The child snatched it eagerly before cramming it into their face and practically sprinting back to their mother.

Mercedes looked up and caught Hubert watching her, “Oh General von Vestra, are you here for a check up too?”

Hubert straightened up and unfolded his arms, “No. I was hoping to talk to you about last night.”

Mercedes bit her lip as she cleaned her hands. “Here? Really? Well, please, take a seat then.” Hubert felt his heart speeding up as he sat on the small examination table that he was comically too large for. Mercedes held up a cookie, “Can I tempt you?”

“No thank you,” murmured Hubert as he watched her shrug and take a bite. He considered his words carefully, “I just wished to tell you I enjoyed our late night tea time.”

Mercedes got up and began to touch him, massaging behind his ears, as if anyone passing by might think she were giving him a real physical exam. “Ah yes, well, I find some nice relaxing _tea_ always helps me fall asleep after a trying day. So thank you, I slept very well.”

“Good,” said Hubert as he felt a heat creeping up his neck at the code they were using. He looked up to make eye contact, “If you ever need someone to join you again, I can be available.”

Mercedes cocked her head at him with an almost playful glint in her eyes, “Would you ever be interested in a proper tea time, with cream and sugar?” Mercedes tipped up his face up as her fingers sought out his pulse.

Hubert wasn’t sure what cream and sugar were code for or if they were talking about actual tea now. He swallowed and tried to look calm and detached, “I’m sure we can negotiate what sort of blends to try.” He did not wish for her to find his hammering pulse, and so he carefully took her hands off of his neck. “I trust you’ll be discreet. People are under the impression I don’t enjoy tea at all, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Don’t worry I’m not interested in telling anyone about this,” she said as her hands retreated from him. “And I understand what you mean about people thinking you do or don’t enjoy something. I for one have never tried coffee, because no one has ever offered me anything so dark, and I don’t know how to prepare it on my own. Maybe you and I can try some new things together.” Mercedes grinned lightly as she sat and worked on finishing off the rest of her cookie. Hubert was extremely keen to know what she meant by coffee, and if and when he’d find out.

Her face turned a little more serious as she pulled up a sketchbook, “There is actually something I’d like to talk to you about that probably also requires some discretion.” She flipped through to a particular page and passed it to him. He was greeted with depictions of arms with familiar scarring patterns upon them. “I’ve been seeing this sort of thing on a number of people coming up from the Abyss. Children and adults.”

They were the same kind of scars adorning Edelgard, Lysithea, and the child from Duscar he’d seen with the gremory. Her sketches were very realistic, “You’re skilled at drawing.” He calmly shut the book and passed it back, “Thank you for bringing these to my attention. I’ll try to see what I can find out.” He looked around and saw no one nearby, “There might be some excitement later in the sealed forest. It would be a good opportunity to snoop as it were, if you happen to see anything worth sketching.”

“Noted,” said Mercedes as she tucked the book into her medics kit. After she sat back up, Mercedes wasn’t looking at him anymore but winking at a small child that was cautiously peeking inside the make shift exam area. Mercedes rubbed Hubert’s knee, “I apologize General, I believe my next appointment has arrived.” Hubert shuffled out of the way to make room for the Abyssian child who clearly was not afraid of Mercedes, but quite skittish around him.

Edelgard’s sharp voice carried as she entered the Cathedral, and Hubert was quick to get to her side. Arundel was looking around with contempt at the people from the Abyss. A few of his black beak masked mages from Hubert’s battalion were attending him. That suggested things were still calm in the sealed forest, for now.

“I would greatly like to see the spot where the relic was recovered,” said Lord Arundel as he looked at the open stairway down to the mausoleum.

“Naturally, I am happy to show you,” lied Hubert as he interceded on Edelgard’s behalf. She found the tunnels extremely claustrophobic and Hubert hoped Arundel would not force her down into the earth. “Would you like to go now?”

“Lead on. By the way, I do so enjoy the changes you’ve made to Seiros’ indulgent monument to herself,” said Arundel with a smirk directed at the partially destroyed ceiling. It made the whole place uncomfortably cold, but the burning braziers were helping.

Hubert chuckled emptily, “Excellent joke my lord.” He supposed humoring his father for years had prepared him for all this boot-licking, though it made it no more palatable.

As they descended Arundel’s mocking gave way to silence and observation. His violet eyes were extra bright as Hubert showed him the library, “This is where Seteth would send banned books. It has not been especially useful to us. Most of the books are damaged, or highly redacted.”

Hubert continued to the strange pagan alter and was glad everyone had heeded his warning to clear out. “This is a very curious pagan statue—”

“ _Kauket_ ,” muttered Arundel under his breath, half cursing, half reverent. Hubert was silent as he watched the Regent approach the statue then kneel before it. There was a dead silence as Arundel appeared to pray. Hubert kept his eyes averted as Lord Arundel came back to his side. “Show me the elites.”

They walked in silence across the bridge that led to the coliseum, until Arundel paused to look over its edge. Hubert joined him; he had thought perhaps looking into darkness wouldn’t trigger his fear of heights but it only seemed to intensify his feelings of panic. There wasn’t anything to look at, and yet Arundel’s eyes seemed to almost glow as he stared. “Is there something of interest to you my lord?” Hubert tried to sound as neutral as possible.

Arundel frowned and made disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, “ _Something_ is down there.” He stopped looking over the bridge and cast his gaze onto the giant depiction of Seiros, “She would erect a massive statue of her herself.”

Torches had been set up around the fighting arena, making it far more imposing than when Hubert had been exploring in the dark. “Here, they’re in this pit,” said Hubert as he gestured. He sincerely hoped he would not be asked to go back down there to demonstrate how the ghosts manifested.

Arundel’s lips curled with satisfaction, “Truly fascinating. So this is where they were executed.”

Hubert pursed his lips and tilted his head. He did not want to appear too interested in the information, so he chose his words very carefully, “Why would the titular heroes of Seiros’ war end up down here?”

“Because she pushed them I assume,” shrugged Arundel as he gave a nod to one of his mages, who seemed to be transcribing something. “They only became heroes posthumously. It was a simply another lie from the mouths of beasts to keep humans ignorant.” Arundel shook his head and then looked intently at Hubert, “Have you come across the Chalice of Beginnings yet?”

Hubert hoped Yuri had done a good job of hiding the thing. “No, it has not been located. I would not be surprised if Rhea destroyed it after that incident—”

“I would be extremely surprised if she did, no, she would not destroy something like that,” said Arundel with confidence. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled, “No matter, we have ways of tracking crested blood, and that thing was repeatedly filled to the brim with it.”

Hubert felt cold at the news, “I did not realize crested blood could be detected.”

“It radiates power, and those who have trained themselves to detect it can sniff out a crest in a crowd like a vulture to carrion,” said Arundel, still staring at the pit. “These bones are ripe with it.”

Hubert looked at the mass grave with a feeling of increasing dread. Luckily Arundel wanted to continue the tour, and Hubert was eager to lead him out of the fighting arena and back across the bridge. Arundel stopped once more to look over the bridge, though now he looked more optimistic. He gestured for one of his mages, “I want this chasm explored.”

The mage seemed to tense up, “Explored, of course, h-how many of us should work on this?”

“However many are needed to get the job done. Assemble a team and figure out how to get down there. Something is at the bottom, and I want it brought up, today,” said Arundel with short patience.

Hubert focused on his breathing to keep his nerves at bay. He wondered what Arundel was sensing down there in the pitch black. It could be anything — more cursed skeletons, a dragon carcass, a potent artifact — and if Arundel wanted it, it could not be good news. He was just glad not to be tasked with having to retrieve it. Maybe more ghosts would take out the dark mages sent down into the depths of hell itself.

Another dark mage was hustling towards their position. He stopped short of them, huffing and puffing, before straightening to attention. “Commander Thales, there is an urgent situation that needs your attention,” said the dark mage sounding as if he had not yet caught his breath.

“You will refer to me as Lord Arundel or you will no longer require your tongue,” said Arundel as his gleaming violet eyes flickered towards Hubert as if to communicate the same to him. _Thales_. Hubert filed that name away for later research.

The dark mage let out a little choked noise at his mistake, “Of course, Lord Arundel, my deepest apologies. I was sent to tell you there is an outbreak in the laboratory.”

“What do you mean by an outbreak?” hissed Arundel as the mage shrank back at his tone.

“The forest has become overrun by our own demonic beasts,” said the mage. His voice shook with cowardice.

Hubert stayed perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his back and his stare fixed on Arundel. The dark mage had called their camp a laboratory, which implied experiments being conducted. Lord Arundel looked livid as his nostrils flared and his eyebrows contorted. “Take off your mask.”

The mage did not move, “Excuse me, my lord?”

Arundel punctuated each word like he was talking to a child, “Take, off, your, mask.”

With shaking hands the mage took off his mask revealing an almost ordinary looking man beneath it. His face looked as if it had begun to scar from his magic, but was nowhere near as degraded as the gremory from the Abyss. His expression betrayed his fear but Hubert felt no pity.

Arundel looked at the small posse of mages attending him, and gestured to the smallest, “You, what is your level?”

“Level six, my lord,” said the selected mage with a quiet voice.

“Expendable then,” hissed Arundel as his eyes returned to the messenger. “Kill him with dark magic.”

“My lord?” whispered the unmasked mage in confusion.

“Must I repeat everything to you?”

Hubert watched unflinchingly as the unmasked mage dropped the level six mage, whatever that meant, with Death. As the expendable mage fell the other man’s face split open from lip to ear and he let out a pained cry despite his attempts to contain the noise. Arundel sneered, “Yes, it hurts doesn’t it? I imagine being at the epicenter of the false goddess’ domain only amplifies her curse.” Arundel cast his murderous glare at his attending mages, “Let this be a reminder that failure is not tolerated. Get to the bottom of the chasm and bring up whatever you find.” His eyes centered on Hubert, “Vestra, assemble some soldiers and clear the sealed forest of demonic beasts as quickly as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bumped up the rating from M to E just to be safe because, well, there was a fairly detailed eyeball removal and explicit sex. There will be no more eyeball removals (as far as I know) but there will be more sex because Mercedes would like to try some coffee...*which means nothing specific, it was a joke!*


	27. The Sealed Forest

The strike force was a little thinner in number than usual. With Caspar out and Linhardt holding vigil in the infirmary, Hubert was down at least two Black Eagles. Reluctantly he replaced them with Felix and Mercedes. Ferdinand and Ashe were already in the Cathedral and easy to recruit. Jeritza was summoned to deal with this mess of his making, and even did the honor of dragging a particularly terrified looking Bernadetta from wherever she’d been hiding. Edelgard arrived with Dorothea and Petra flanking her, and was raring to go with her axe.

“Your majesty, I don’t think you should join in this,” said Hubert quietly. The group was organizing in the armory before they would set out on foot. Horses were not ideal for a fight in the woods against aggressive beasts.

Edelgard frowned as she hefted her weapon easily, “You’d deny me the chance to keep my training sharp?”

Hubert sighed, “No, I want to distance you from this situation.” He wanted to keep her as far away from the broken crest stones as possible; if Arundel sniffed out any hint of sabotage his retribution would be swift.

Edelgard leveled her axe on the ground, “Arundel is extremely distracted by whatever you showed him underground. I daresay my absence won’t be noted.”

She was right to sound annoyed. Whatever had been sensed out in that chasm was unlikely to bode well for them. “This will be dangerous,” said Hubert, hoping to dissuade her.

“Precisely why I should be there,” said Edelgard with a glare. “I’m going to protect _you_.” Her eyes were lingering on the spot where he’d been stabbed the last time he’d been out in the woods.

Fine, he could play this game, “Petra, please make sure her majesty never leaves your sight. Even if you must leave hers.”

Petra’s bright purplish eyes glimmered as she got the order, “Of course.” That she was trusted with the Emperor’s protection appeared to be a point of pride that Hubert was happy to bolster.

Edelgard narrowed her gaze on Hubert and then smirked. “Ferdinand, would you please make sure to keep Hubert as your adjunct? He’s still recovering from his wound and I’d hate for him to get injured further.”

Ferdinand gave Hubert an especially mortified look, “Might I suggest—”

“No you may not,” interrupted Edelgard. Ferdinand shut his eyes and nodded as if accepting a terrible fate.

Hubert cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention as he turned his focus to a strategic briefing. “The Sealed Forest is experiencing an outbreak of demonic beasts. We’ll work in teams to take them out. Make sure you’re always around at least one other person.” He paused and gave a pointed look towards Felix, “That includes you Fraldarius.” Felix just rolled his eyes. Hubert watch a cute pink mitten rise up to indicate a question, “Uh, yes Ms. von Martritz?”

“Were these demonic beasts people once?” asked Mercedes.

Hubert felt his lips forming a razor thin line. Byleth might have been in charge of the Miklan mission, but he had taken Sylvain Gautier since it was his family relic that had been stolen. Of course Sylvain had told his house mates about the horror show even after Rhea had ordered silence. Then there were the wild rumors that had spread quicker than fire through dry brush when Jeralt’s killers turned students into beasts. Hubert straightened up, “It is possible, I suppose.”

“Then would it be possible then to change them back, instead of killing them?” Mercedes looked so optimistic it hurt him to have to tell her the truth, that more dead dark mages rather than fewer was the ideal outcome. It was why they were taking their sweet time to mobilize now.

Yet Hubert found his mouth dry as he contemplated what to say and how to soften that blow. Edelgard frowned at his delay, and directed her gaze at Mercedes, “We do not have any means of turning someone back once they’ve transformed. For our own safety, we must take them out.” Edelgard seemed on edge, “Besides, we would not want them spreading through the forest. Who knows what, or _who_ , they might come across and kill?”

Hubert noted that Mercedes flushed red and dropped her gaze to the floor as she murmured, “Oh, of course.”

His own pulse quickened at the idea of Dimitri drawn to the slaughter by the commotion. It was now Ethereal moon, and while his run in with Dimitri had been weeks ago the idea of seeing the prince filled Hubert with a unique sort of dread he hadn’t quite experienced from anyone else before. Arundel came close, but Dimitri occupied a special place in Hubert’s mind. The prince lived at the dark edges of Hubert’s thoughts, waiting to strike and finish the kill.

The mood of the room was getting uncomfortable at the implication that the beasts they were killing were their own soldiers. Hubert tried to rally the Strike Force, “This is my battalion we’re saving, and so if you see anything questionable while we’re there, I want to know about it. Most of you recall this is where Solon tried to trap the professor, so be on your guard.”

The armory fell into complete silence. He could see their eyes changing at the mention of Byleth. Their professor had cut a hole through what could only be another dimension, overcoming seemingly impossible odds, and yet had been bested by Rhea tossing him down a chasm. Hubert sighed; he needed to boost morale but he was not skilled at such matters. Hubert decided to quit before he dug this hole any deeper, “Right, let’s go.”

The Strike Force paired off as they walked, with Jeritza and Mercedes leading. Petra and Edelgard seemed eager for this fight, Dorothea was forcing small talk on Felix, and Ashe was showing something to Bernadetta on his bow. Other assorted soldiers were joining them, and Hubert was surprised but pleased by Ferdinand’s uncharacteristic silence.

Ferdinand was wringing his hands along the shaft of his lance and avoiding any eye contact. Now it was Hubert’s turn to feel uneasily; he knew he was being paranoid but all his mind could focus on was the possibility that Ferdinand somehow knew _something_ had happened between Hubert and Mercedes last night, “Why are you behaving so nervously?”

“Because I am embarrassed,” hissed Ferdinand so only Hubert could hear. “I shamed myself with my conduct down in the Abyss the other day. Getting drunk while on the clock?” He sucked in a loud, despondent breath, “And then, to, to.” He could not finish his thought, “I have already tipped the laundress generously for all I put her through.” Ferdinand gave him a pained look, “I am so sincerely sorry.”

“We don’t have to discuss any expulsions,” said Hubert as he tried to suppress the memories of that particular evening. His nerves relaxed slightly knowing that Ferdinand had no idea about the infirmary tryst. “I hope you learned a valuable lesson about your limits.”

Ferdinand groaned but said nothing. They strode in silence for all of a minute before Ferdinand resumed his fretting, “Actually, I could really use your advice on a delicate matter.”

Hubert sighed and braced himself for whatever Ferdinand was about to ask. Hubert wasn’t used to being actively sought out for advice and found more often than not people did not appreciate his unsolicited suggestions.

“What is the proper protocol for proposing in this kind of situation?”

Hubert nearly tripped, “Excuse me? Who are you proposing to?”

“Keep your voice down,” pleaded Ferdinand as he stole worried glances at the other Strike Force members. “Dorothea, obviously.”

Hubert didn’t mean for his face to scrunch up with such incredulity, but he couldn’t help it, “I’m sorry, why?”

“Because I besmirched her honor!” exclaimed Ferdinand in a whisper. “I must make it right.”

“It was just a kiss,” murmured Hubert. “She probably doesn’t even remember.”

“Why does that make me feel worse?” whispered Ferdinand, clearly wishing he had forgotten it too.

Hubert could see Mercedes walking up ahead and wondered how many people she had kissed before him. A vision of her lips around the rim of a teacup while her eyes watched him filled his mental space. Was he prepared to know such information? “First kisses don’t matter much, it’s the last ones that matter most,” said Hubert softly. He’d throw his first kiss away in a heartbeat just to savor his most recent once more.

Ferdinand hummed as he considered the advice. “I am sorry about your battalion by the way,” added Ferdinand as they closed in on the camp.

Hubert wasn’t but he had to keep that wrapped up tight, “Thank you. Although I suppose when you play with dark magic sometimes it bites back.”

Ferdinand sighed, “I had hoped I had gotten through to Edelgard on the use of demonic beasts, maybe this will finally demonstrate my point at the brutality of it.”

“She is aware,” whispered Hubert quietly. “But she is not the one who needs convincing.”

From the corner of his vision, Hubert watched as Ferdinand straightened up with realization, “Arundel, right, of course.”

“The Emperor needs your support, but also your silence, let things play out, don’t bring it up,” warned Hubert. “Especially not in front of the Regent.”

“Hubert, did you have anything to do—” Ferdinand’s question was cut short as the sounds of screaming up ahead reached their ears. Jeritza signaled for silence and readied his scythe. Hubert's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the camp. The rows of tents that had no doubt been in an orderly grid were now trampled and torn. Bodies were strewn about in various states of having been consumed. He had sights on at least four beasts, and the sounds from the denser portions of the forest suggested far more.

***

Mercedes was glad to walk with her brother, but she wished they were walking to a bakery instead of a battle. Right now her body was tense with anticipation as they neared the battalion’s camp deep in the Sealed Forest. Jeritza was silent as they walked with his scythe swinging with the sway of his arms. Mercedes wondered if she ought to take this as a chance to talk to her brother, “This will be our first battle on the same side.”

His eyes flickered towards her briefly before setting back onto his path, “I did not wish to fight you before the war.”

“Is that why you wore that mask?” It was hard to both look at him and pay attention to where she was walking, but she was afraid if she looked away she’d miss a rare reaction.

“No. I wore the mask because Emile von Bartels is a dead man,” sighed Jeritza as he straightened his posture and glanced up towards the sky. “If you compromised my identity, it would have warranted your removal.”

“Oh,” managed Mercedes as she tried to suppress her shock. “So, in a way, the mask was to protect me?” Jeritza just hummed but did not confirm or deny her postulation. Mercedes chewed on her lip, “How did you get out of prison anyway? Mother and I saw the news that you were executed.” A noble massacre in another country was splashy front page news in Fhirdiad as a distraction from Faerghus’ own mounting rebellions. It had been a horrible way to learn her brother’s fate.

Jeritza made a guttural noise deep in his throat, “I was secretly pardoned. I did not want you to know.”

“Why?” The ease with which he said it hurt her. She was desperate to understand why he had let her and their mother believe he had been hung, “With our father dead there was no more danger. We could have come together again as a family.”

“The danger to you is me,” whispered Jeritza. “I knew you would seek me out. I did not want that for you. I wish for you to have a happy life, a quiet one, but if I am in it, that cannot be.”

“Then why did you save me at Garreg Mach? If you wanted me free of you, why let me be conscripted?” The question had been gnawing at her for a long time. He could have let her go if he did not want to be around her.

He looked at her with a sharp and pained gaze, “This is not the time—”

Mercedes frowned and tightened her grip on her medics’ kit. They used to have staring contests as children, and just like back then Mercedes always lost. There was screaming coming from up ahead that pulled her attention from her attempted interrogation. Jeritza raised his fist and the group fell into silence.

“Stay towards the back,” ordered Jeritza as Mercedes continued to keep pace with him.

Mercedes glowered. It wasn’t an expression she was used to wearing but she was so over being told to wait out of danger. She merely responded to his suggestion by blasting Bolganone at an incoming beast. Mercedes delicately blew the lingering embers from her fingers and shot her brother a look as if to dare him to insist she was too delicate to fight. Jeritza just nodded at her, and dove into the fray with Mercedes just behind him.

However, no matter how invigorating it was to fire off battle spells for the first time since school, she couldn’t ignore the screaming filling her ears. People were in pain and dying all around her, and as much as she wished to show Jeritza she could handle herself, she alone was the most competent healer out here. Mercedes watched as her brother slipped further into the fight as she paused and began to heal the fallen. Jeritza did not require any help with killing, and saving the wounded was clearly where she was needed most.

***

There was a massive fire raging at the northern reach of the camp that Hubert and Ferdinand were steadily fighting their way towards. The beast that seemed to have set the flames was unusual compared to the standard furry fare. It had a long neck rippling with pulsing veins and where it’s head ought to have been there was a large exposed skull. Hubert readied his magic as he spied exposed human arms and legs sticking out at odd angles from the body of the beast. This abomination appeared to be from more than one person turned by a broken crest stone; this was an amalgamation of multiple mages. One arm was actively twisting in the fur as if trying to claw its way free, and Hubert was struck by the horror of knowing that perhaps those turned into beasts maintained some autonomy.

The thing let out a dissonant roar and Hubert found himself thrown from his feet by it’s magic. He landed on the pale stones of a platform and a sudden realization of where they were jolted through him. This was where Solon had ripped open the fabric of space to try to toss Byleth away. The beast, having dispelled them, continued to prowl about the stones as if looking for something. Ferdinand was stumbling back to his feet, “Do not let it isolate you!”

Hubert blasted Dark Spikes at the thing’s head. The spell barely seemed to hit as its unseemly large neck wrenched towards him. From the corner of his eye Hubert spied Ferdinand running with his lance raised at one of the back legs. As soon as the weapon made contact the beast let out a howl and kicked von Aegir backwards. Hubert tried another spell to distract it before its focus fixed on Ferdinand. He felt like they were a pair of mosquitoes trying to take the thing down, and he wondered how long they could keep things up as familiar screaming met his ears.

Hubert turned his head slightly towards Dorothea’s cries and saw Felix being swiped by a smaller beast in the distance. Fraldarius went down. Dorothea gave up on using magic and started up with her sword as she sliced forward. Hubert turned his attention back to his beast only to be flung once more by its magic. He landed with Ferdinand in a painful heap. Hubert found his mouth filled with blood from accidentally biting at his cheek. He gave Ferdinand a determined look, “We have to keep chipping away at it.” Everyone else was preoccupied with their own beasts and no one was going to be coming to help them any time soon.

Ferdinand’s brow was bloodied as he nodded and forced himself back up. They took opposite sides and continued their assault. It was difficult to predict when it would lash out at them and send them flying, and by the third hit Hubert was feeling like they’d bitten off much more than they could chew. The sound of wood cracking filled his ears as he watched Ferdinand’s lance snap beneath the force of the beast’s foot. Ferdinand threw up what was left of the shaft to catch in the beast’s maw as it hunkered down in an attempt to swallow him whole.

Hubert looked desperately for anything that might help him, and settled on an especially big spear laying the wreckage of the trampled camp. It was heavy as hell but Hubert suspected by the glow of its tip that the thing was extra deadly. He was not disappointed as the electric tingle of magic filled his arms. This thing had to behave like a Levin sword or a Bolting axe. Hubert had never relied on physical weapons because he did not like to carry them, but he’d had the chance to see them in the field and appreciated just how deadly they could be. He focused on the weapon and then his target as he channeled his magic through it straight at the beast’s neck.

Hubert was knocked back still clutching the strange lance. As he sat up he was greeted by the beast stumbling backward as blood poured forth from the stump where it’s neck had once been. The head had squarely landed where Ferdinand had been.

Hubert hustled to try to pull the skull by it’s horns that were easily as big as he was. A muffled cry of disgust came from the pile of flesh as Ferdinand fought his way free of the carnage. Ferdinand was coated from head to toe in a viscous mix of beast blood and drool. He eyed Hubert’s new weapon warily and then nodded at von Vestra, “I believe you and I are now even when it comes to making messes on each other.”

A surprised laugh crossed Hubert’s lips as he relaxed. They looked out at the settling quiet of the sealed forest as Jertiza silenced the last of the beasts. There were likely to be more hidden in the trees, but for now the main threat had been dealt with. Ferdinand gave a forlorn look at his sleeves, “I suppose I ought to commission someone to make me a new jacket.”

“Make it in crimson, to hide the blood,” chuckled Hubert as they helped each other to stagger away from the still wriggling beast. The mess of arms and legs persisted in twitching as if trying to free themselves, but they were getting slower and slower as the blood drained from the decapitated body. Hubert’s mind clung to the idea that people could maintain some sort of will when turned to beasts and wondered what that might mean for Edelgard and her own twisted anomaly.

***

“Mercedes?” Jertiza’s voice was soft, like he was approaching a deer that might bolt at any moment. She was kneeling in what was left of a tent she’d walked into looking for wounded people. The bodies of those she’d been too late to rescue were littering the ground. The one she was over was the last person still alive. Without his mask on Mercedes could see the dark mage was little more than a teenager, a boy really, who’d caught a massive talon through his middle.

Mercedes let her eyes trace up to her brother. She trembled as she held a large artery closed, “I, I’m trying-” She had lost too many, she wasn’t losing this one too.

“Mercedes, there’s nothing you can do for him,” said Jeritza as he knelt down beside her and the dark mage. The young man’s eyes were still fluttering open and shut as if begging her to keep trying.

“That’s not true, I can’t let go of this and heal him, but if you helped me I can try,” Mercedes spoke rapidly, tripping over her words. She’d lost count of how many she’d saved and how many she’d lost, but the ratio was squarely in favor of the dead.

Jertiza’s eyes flicked over the mage evaluating his injuries, which were many, and then settled on her, “How long have you been keeping him alive?”

Mercedes had no idea. She could no longer hear the clash of steel or the snarl of beasts, “Is the battle over already?”

Jeritza carefully let his hands join hers right in the open wound, “You need to let go.”

Mercedes locked eyes with him and shook her head, “I can’t, if I do that he’ll die.”

“He’s beyond healing, even for someone as skilled as you,” whispered Jeritza. He was looking at the pool of blood she was sitting in, “You cannot save everyone.”

“I can try, I have to try,” said Mercedes as she felt her tears running down her cheeks. This was the part of her training that she always preferred to challenge. She was supposed to prioritize those who could be healed without a doubt and to move quickly through the wounded. Yet even after years of healing she wasn’t interested in giving up on anyone. It made her slow on the battlefield sometimes, and she’d been lectured after some close calls in school.

Jertiza’s hands were working hers away from the artery. “You’re not helping him right now. You are merely extending his pain. Sometimes you have to make the choice, who lives and who dies. Choose those who you can save. Let death claim the others.”

Mercedes locked eyes with her brother. He had blood splattered across his face that made his blue eyes seem even more intense as they stared back into hers. He chose who died, and she chose who lived. She felt at once they were the two heads of the Adrestian Eagle, the symbol of their cursed homeland, pulling in opposite directions and yet still clinging together at their core.

Jertiza swallowed uneasily as he reached up with a bloodied hand to tuck her loose hairs behind her ear, “There are others that need you now. You cannot help them if you stay here with someone who is a lost cause.”

Mercedes shut her eyes and suppressed a sob as she released the blood vessel. Jeritza at least humored her as she waited for the dark mage to fully expire before helping her to her feet. Her skirts were absolutely soaked in blood. It was up her arms, and the bottom of her ponytail was drenched with it.

She let herself be led away from the mage she failed to save and out into the open where more carnage greeted her. Jertiza had his hands on either of her shoulders as he marched her to the wounded members of the Strike Force. Mercedes did not over-think things as she dropped into action closing up a particularly nasty wound on Felix’s neck. It looked like someone had tried to heal it already but the wound was just too bad. He looked even more put off than usual, “This was a mess.”

“At least you’re alive,” whispered Mercedes as she focused on disinfecting and closing him up. Her mind continued to wander towards the people she’d failed today. She forced herself to keep up a conversation for the distraction, “How did you get hit like this anyway?”

“I was taking a hit for my partner,” grumbled Felix as his eyes traced over to where Dorothea was helping with some auxiliary healing on Bernadetta. Dorothea’s faith magic was a little shaky, but from Mercedes’ view it looked good enough. Mercedes wondered if it had been Dorothea that had attempted to heal Felix at first.

Felix grunted with pain as Mercedes did a slightly rough job at closing up his neck. Her fingers were shaking quite a bit and it was hard to concentrate. Her mind was in a million different places. Hubert had given her warning something would happen here today; did he know the kind of catastrophe they’d be walking into? Was this what he had planned? She understood these were the people who had taken her brother, who were potentially responsible for Duscar, but still to slaughter them like this was unfathomably cruel to her. There had to be a better way to stop them than mass slaughter.

“This is all you managed to save?” The biting voice cut through the scene with an exceptional amount of spite packed into it. Mercedes looked up and looked at what could only be the regent of Adresia, Lord Arundel. She recalled eavesdropping on Hubert and Yuri’s conversation down in the Wilted Rose, and knew Arundel had to be an important Slither. This had been done to hurt him, but Mercedes wasn’t sure it was worth the cost.

“Most of them were dead or turned by the time we arrived,” said Edelgard calmly. Arundel held up his hand to silence the Emperor. A mage had come to deliver a report into the Regent’s ears alone as everyone kept quiet.

“Where is Vestra?” spat Lord Arundel when he’d finished hearing whatever updates had been shared.

“I’m here, my lord,” said Hubert. Mercedes watched as Hubert maneuvered through some wreckage carrying a large weapon. From the way he was holding it she imagined it had to be extremely heavy, or he exceptionally weak.

“Why do you have that?” Arundel’s words came out more hissed than spoken.

Hubert bowed his head and offered the weapon to the regent, “My apologies, I grabbed it in the chaos of battle.”

Arundel didn’t touch the weapon, and appeared positively livid as he looked between Hubert and Edelgard, “I need to speak with the two of you now.” He stormed towards the single command tent that was still standing, and the mages inside rushed to evacuate.

Mercedes saw from the corner of her eye as Hubert snapped and signaled for the Strike Force to give them space. Felix caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Mercedes wanted to know why the hell she had just had to watch so many people die and see her friend with a giant gash in his neck or her brother soaked in blood. She and Felix were still just close enough to eavesdrop. “Don’t move, you still need a lot of healing,” whispered Mercedes as she tried to discretely look into the tent.

Arundel was pacing while the Emperor and her vassal stood still and silent. “I am told every crest stone was cracked,” said Arundel, his voice enraged. “This is sabotage. This had to be the prince.”

“Are you suggesting that the prince of Faerghus snuck into a heavily fortified camp, found some crest stones, broke them, and then just left without doing anything else?” Edelgard seemed incredulous at the suggestion.

Felix was edging closer and Mercedes also couldn’t help but be intrigued. “They could have broken in transit,” suggested Hubert calmly. “Perhaps they were jostled too much, that would explain how all of them are broken.”

Arundel let out a disgruntled sigh, “Are you insinuating that my mages did not carefully pack the most precious resource we have?” Mercedes could see just a sliver of Arundel grabbing Hubert by his jacket and pulling him close, “Perhaps I ought to send you to find me that little Nabatean brat so you can appreciate the difficulty of acquiring these materials.”

“It is a substantial loss, however we do not need to use demonic beasts in this army,” said Edelgard. “Besides, they are impossible to control, they represent too great a liability.”

“The stones are not just for making beasts. That is the least of their uses,” hissed Arundel. “We are making weapons like the one Vestra has so idiotically imprinted himself upon.” He finally released his hold on Hubert’s jacket and pushed him away.

“Imprinted, excuse me?” Mercedes knew Hubert just well enough to pick up on the subtle notes of panic and surprise in his voice.

Mercedes couldn’t see the regent’s face but she could practically hear the sneer upon it, “Bones make blood in life, that is why relics are so intimately tied to a specific crest. Yet Nabatean bones are in precious short supply, so in lieu of them we are developing new relics using blood and machinery. They are tied to a specific wielder rather than a crest.” Arundel let out a contemptuous snort, “Congratulations Vestra, you are now the proud bearer of the Arrow of Indra. Maybe you should train to be able to actually lift it. It was supposed to go to Jeritza, an actual knight.”

Hubert said nothing, but Edelgard cleared her throat. “What other weapons are you developing?”

“Do not feel so left out your highness. We are tracking down a lead on locations of two other Nabateans. They are two ancient isolated beasts, and are proving elusive. If we can get one, I would like to make you an axe worthy of your crests and your opponent.”

Mercedes froze at the plural, crests. She knew Edelgard had a Crest of Flames, but she had assumed the Crest of Seiros had been a cover and not a crest in tandem. She could feel Felix was tensing up beneath her healing hands. Clearly he hadn’t realized the Emperor had two crests either.

Arundel’s anger seemed to be leveling off, “This was a massive loss of resources. However there are other ways of making crest stones, although they are less than ideal. I am aware you have a soldier bearing a major crest—” Mercedes felt ill; Felix was the only person she knew with a major crest. She could feel his heart rate intensifying.

“We are not turning over our own soldiers for your experiments,” snapped Edelgard. “Absolutely not.”

Arundel hummed. “I suppose we would not want to create a panic. A compromise then, any crested prisoners of war you capture will be turned over to me.”

“Of course Lord Arundel,” whispered Edelgard, her voice filled with ice.

“Then I shall stay here at Garreg Mach until you bring in Blaiddyd,” announced Arundel with a falsely pleasant air. He was met with silence. As soon as there was movement in the tent Felix grabbed Mercedes so they could be anywhere but near that cursed conversation.

“I have to tell you something important,” whispered Mercedes with a worried look over her shoulder. She hoped she could trust Felix with what she’d seen of Dimitri, Dedue, and Ingrid. Maybe he would even help her in helping them. She could not abide by having her friends turned over to the Regent to be re-purposed like spare parts, “I can’t talk about it here though.”

Felix nodded, “Later, we can meet in my room. It’s at the end of the hall and I don’t really have neighbors any more.” Mercedes nodded as they quickly got apart and went about the rest of their post battle clean up. Mercedes did her best to avoid Hubert at all costs. She had more than a few questions for him yet he was the last person she wanted to see.

After the dead were arranged for burning, Mercedes was finally dismissed from the Sealed Forest. She skipped dinner and went straight to the sauna. It took her a good hour to get all the blood off herself and out of her hair. Cutting it was seeming like a better and better option with each passing day, although she was afraid it would turn out lopsided if she did it herself. At least it helped distract her from picturing the faces of those who'd died while she tried to heal them.

As she left the sauna, she took a turn towards the second floor dorms instead of down the stairs to her own level. Mercedes prayed she didn’t run into anyone. She was dressed for bed with a heavy quilted robe over her nightgown, and felt extremely conspicuous as she crept towards Felix’s room.

He did not look much more relaxed then when they’d been in the woods. Felix was pacing so much she was amazed he hadn’t worn away a channel into the floorboards. “What the hell did we overhear?”

“Something big,” murmured Mercedes as she took a seat on his desk chair. “The emperor has two crests.”

“At minimum,” grunted Felix. “How does that happen?”

“Unnaturally,” guessed Mercedes. She looked at the closed door and pursed her lips, “I um, I’ve seen Dimitri and the others, recently.”

Felix stopped his pacing and turned, “How are they?”

Mercedes focused on braiding her wet hair. “I had to remove Dimitri’s eye. It was too infected to save.” Memories of the surgery surfaced, unwanted, in the forefront of her mind. The images oscillated with visions of the dark mages she’d watched die today and the beasts filling the sealed forest. Mercedes took a deep breath as she tried to get her mind onto something else.

Felix looked like the life had been sucked out of him as he fell back onto his bed and cradled his head in his hands. Mercedes sighed at the numb feeling taking over her chest, “He’ll be alright. He’s going to heal. He has Ingrid and Dedue taking care of him.”

Felix glanced up, “What about Sylvain and Annette?”

Mercedes shook her head, “They left after your run in. I assume they went back to Fhirdiad.”

“Good,” whispered Felix, looking relieved for the first time all day.

“I’m going on patrol with my brother, I’m hoping to divert him from their camp,” said Mercedes. She looked up to make eye contact with Felix, “I could use your help in that.” Felix looked like he wanted to bolt but this was his room and there was nowhere to go. Mercedes took a deep breath, “I know things got bad, but you can still apologize.”

Felix just glowered in response. Mercedes didn’t know what to do to help him see that his bridges were not all burned. “They could really use supplies, I can tell you how to find them if you want to help them.” When he still failed to respond Mercedes shut her eyes and envisioned the path, “If you go to the old abandoned chapel, you’ll start to see tree with notches in them. If you follow them, you’ll get to the mountains. It’s a long walk, but you could probably do it in two hours.”

Felix crossed his arms and nodded, “If I go, it’ll be to tell them to leave.” His expression hardened, “You heard what they’re going to do if they catch him.”

Mercedes swallowed uneasily, “If they can’t capture him, they might use you.”

“I’ll deal with that if it happens.” Felix grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, “Don’t forget your own crest.”

How could she? It had only brought her misery, and it figured it would put a target on her back. “I think my brother protects me, but you need to watch out for yourself, just in case.”

“I always do,” grunted Felix as his gaze turned to the window. She wondered who he was looking for as he stared off in the distance.

Mercedes got up and smoothed out the fabric of her robe, “I should get going, it’s late. Rest up.”

Felix nodded but didn’t do much in the way of a goodbye. Mercedes quietly walked through the hall as quickly as she could. She found herself holding her breath as she tiptoed past Hubert’s room lest he somehow catch her sneaking around up here.

Her mind kept circling around the knowledge that Hubert knew people were being harvested for their crests, and he was just letting it happen. It twisted at her insides to know that she had initiated things with him when he was complicit with so many terrible events just like the incident with his own battalion today. Yet he was also actively working to sabotage what might be objectively worse actors. Hubert was acting like a double agent, but Mercedes wasn’t entirely sure what boundaries he wasn’t willing to cross, if any, in pursuit of Edelgard’s goals. She was determined to figure out where exactly he stood. A small part of her even dared to hope she could pull him from the darkness and closer towards her light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, it's time to go back to Annie and Sylvain and find out what the Alliance is up to, and maybe even get a status update on Dedue, Ingrid, and Dimitri.


	28. Hidden Identities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude shares a scheme with Annette and Sylvain.  
> Hubert and Edelgard dust of hidden histories.

Rodrigue returned Judith’s wyvern messenger with a pledge of unofficial support. He couldn’t be seen openly going against Rufus Blaiddyd’s orders for neutrality in the conflict, but he could misplace some troops near Aielell. They would be there by Lone Moon. Annie was relieved that even if leadership in Fhirdiad wasn’t moving, at least some people understood that if the border of the Alliance fell it was only a matter of time before the Empire swept into the Kingdom.

Claude responded to the messenger by coming to Daphnel in person. Annette and Sylvain were practicing magic together in the very well furnished training room with Judith when Claude arrived with an older man with him.

Judith looked Claude’s escort over, “Nader. Still babysitting the boy?”

The large scarred up man let out a deep laugh, “Maybe I just wanted to see you, Lady Daphnel.” He and Claude were both dressed unusually, but Annie figured that was what was in style in Derdriu. Annie suspected Judith and Nader had some history together as they grinned at each other worse than blushing teenagers.

“I had to see it to believe it, some Blue Lions are really joining this fight on our side?” Claude smiled as he shook hands with Annette and Sylvain.

“We’ve been fighting, even if we weren’t with you,” said Sylvain with a slight frown. “We’ve engaged with smaller forces.”

Annie had to say that while she and Sylvain looked like they’d been logging some serious training hours, Claude definitely looked like he’d been on the front lines of the war. She’d noticed him here and there in school but this was the first time she was up close and personal with him and his extremely toned arms. She tried to make sure she wasn’t craning her neck too much as she looked up at him, “But we would like to hear about your experiences with the empire and what their main forces fight like.” Sylvain looked down at her with mild surprise as Claude nodded. Judith and Nader had broken off from them to talk about something, leaving the three Garreg Mach alumni near the training room’s range.

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll be talking strategy.” Claude was watching her far more closely than she was used to. “So Annie, I heard it was you who came up with this little plan to attack the monastery?”

Annette wondered if there was a polite way to let him know that she wasn’t on a nickname basis with him, but she’d let it slide, “Mhmm, I mean, Sylvain and I have been planning together with Judith. The Empire has our friends. We have to act.”

“You sure they’re still your friends? I assume you’re referring to Felix, right?” He no longer looked so impressed.

“And Mercedes,” added Annette, though a little dread welled up in her heart at Claude’s words.

“Well I can’t speak for Mercedes, but Felix was definitely fighting _with_ the Empire last time I saw him,” said Claude with a distinct disdain. “He looked plenty comfortable in that black uniform.”

Sylvain jumped in with a response before Annette could think of what to possibly say, “Well, we don’t know his side of the story. Things went poorly at Garreg Mach, there was no way he could have escaped. It was smarter to surrender.”

Annette just felt cold as she thought about the fight with Felix in the forest. It was best not to bring that up. "I don't believe Mercedes or Felix are there by choice." She could tell by Claude's face he was still taking them in and seemingly measuring their worth or loyalty. Her throat tightened as she wondered if he thought this was somehow a trap, that she and Sylvain by association with Felix were also in cahoots with the Empire. "Once the Empire takes your home, they're just going to turn and take ours. If we don't help you we're just sitting around and waiting to die."

There was a tense pause as the three of them looked at each other, but then the mood melted into Claude's usually carefree candor, “I like your enthusiasm.” He nodded his head towards Nader, “Well no one here is waiting around to die as you so darkly put it. After some negotiating and scheming, we now have a secret weapon, Almyran raiders. They’re already on their way to Enbarr now, and there's no way the Empire can get troops there in time to stop them.” He seemed to be taking extra care in watching their faces for their reaction.

Annette’s mouth hung open in honest confusion, “You’re working with Almyra? I thought, I thought they kind of hated Fodlan?”

Claude looked at her as if debating what to say. He eventually grinned and scratched at his head, “They do. But I gave them a good reason to help out.”

“Such as?” Sylvain was looking as suspicious as Annie had ever seen him. “I know a bit about bad border relations and I must say I can’t imagine the people of Sreng setting aside centuries of warfare to help out house Gautier. If anything they’d wait to kick us while we were down.”

“Well, last I checked you’re no scion of Sreng,” said Claude in a teasing way. Sylvain just frowned. Claude straightened up, “I guess I have to spell it out for you, I’m half Almyran.”

“Huh, really?” Annie literally had no idea. Sure he had an earring and his skin was a little more tan than most nobles she met, but there were dark skinned people in Fodlan. She just assumed there were more in the Alliance than the Kingdom. It wasn’t as if she’d ever been there.

“Yes?” Claude seemed taken aback by the fact that she couldn’t tell.

“So you’re half Almyran, what does that matter?” Sylvain folded his arms as he kept a close watch on Claude.

“Well the half is pretty important, my dad is the king,” said Claude casually.

There was silence as the Blue Lions stared at the former head of the Golden Deer. “That’s a big deal! Why didn’t you tell anyone?” exclaimed Annette. She wasn’t sure she could keep a secret so huge.

“The Officer’s Academy was founded two hundred years ago to kill Almyrans. They’re the sworn enemies of the Alliance. If someone like Lorenz found out the next Duke Riegan was technically an Almyran prince, it wouldn’t have gone well for me,” said Claude with a perplexed expression. 

“I guess I don’t really know that much about Alliance politics,” admitted Annette, mostly to herself. Suddenly the unusual clothes made sense, he and Nader weren’t in the latest Derdriu fashions, the were dressed in an Almyran fashion.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised you couldn't figure it out, Fodlan’s incredibly closed off,” said Claude with a hint of darkness to his words. A sudden forced lightness returned to his tone, “Besides, I know you were always more interested in magic than politics right, you wanted to become a teacher?”

“Oh, yeah I was thinking about it, before everything happened,” said Annette as her voice trailed off. “I’m surprised you remember something so small.”

“I don’t think anyone’s dreams should be considered small,” said Claude as he smiled at her. He smiled quite a bit, and Annie wondered if he had been this charming in school and she just hadn’t noticed.

Annie felt the blush spreading in her cheeks at the idea someone — and not just anyone, a prince — was paying such close attention to her. She was considering teaching because she wouldn’t be inheriting much of anything thanks to her father’s rejection of his titles. She had been looking into jobs she could get that would let her be independent, and spent a lot of time talking with Hanneman about how to become a professor. “I didn’t know anyone was all that interested in me,” said Annette.

“Well I like to know what people are up to, like I know Gautier was only interested in maybe a quarter of the skirts he was chasing, and you have an extremely nice singing voice,” said Claude.

Sylvain glowered but Annie wanted to die of embarrassment. “You’ve heard me singing?”

“Yeah, I really liked the depth of your lyrics,” said Claude. He looked over at Nader and Judith and then back at Annette and Sylvain, “I’d love to catch up more over dinner, but right now I have some business to discuss with Judith.”

“Oh of course!” Annie watched him walking off with a totally new view of him. “Wow, Claude’s a prince,” said Annette, still marveling at the fact he’d been hiding something like that.

Sylvain rolled his eyes and picked his magic tome back up. He’d been practicing a lot and Annie was impressed by the progress he was making. “I’d only trust about half of what he says, if that. I think he’s hiding something.”

Annie frowned at Sylvain, “Why? He was being super nice, I think he’s honestly glad we’re here helping.”

"He doesn't trust us, he only told us what we'd be finding out anyway. If there's really an impending attack on Enbarr, even if we were spies and warned the Empire, they couldn't get troops there fast enough. When it's clear the Almyrans are supporting Leicester in the war, it'll come out he's royalty," said Sylvain as he narrowed his eyes on Claude, who was now chatting with Judith across the training room. His gaze returned to Annie and softened slightly, "And clearly he was flirting with you.”

Annie felt the blush returning to her cheeks, “No he was not!” That wasn’t flirting, that was, it was, oh no, was Sylvain right? “You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’d say he’s reading too much into you,” murmured Sylvain as he returned his eyes to his tome.

Annie frowned, “You almost sound jealous.”

It was Sylvain’s turn to blush, “Me, jealous? No. I’m just watching out for you. Claude is duplicitous, I don’t want you getting hurt. Guys like that flirt for sport to get a read on people, not because they're interested."

“I guess it takes one to know one,” said Annie dismissively.

“You wound me,” said Sylvain as he clutched his hands over his heart. Whatever seriousness had been in his tone was hidden away beneath his usual bravado. “I mean I get a lot of flack, but Claude was just as bad—”

Annie screwed up her face in disbelief, “Uh, not according to the girls in the sauna.”

“Excuse me? Girls were talking about me in the sauna?” Sylvain sounded extremely interested. “About how good looking I am?”

Annie let out a disgruntled sigh, “About how lame you are, trust me, it wasn’t good.”

“Did you defend my honor?” Sylvain was giving her his best pleading eyes; it would be funny if the rumors hadn’t been so bad.

“What honor?” demanded Annie.

“I have honor, I’m here helping aren’t I? That’s some grade A honor—”

“Not with girls though,” sighed Annie. “Honestly, all I wanted in school was go on a date with Felix, and you to date Mercie, and the four of us to be fun couples friends.”

“I mean, that sounds nice and all but,” said Sylvain slowly.

Annie waited for him to explain but he just let the thought trail off. She frowned, “But what?”

“I liked Mercedes as a friend, and I didn’t want to mess that up,” said Sylvain as he turned the page in his tome. “I manage to ruin things with every girl I talk to, so it’s easier if I like someone to just keep it to myself.” He focused on a spell and kept his eyes off of Annette.

Annie frowned, “Did you have a crush on Mercedes?” She felt terrible, maybe he was pining as bad as she was for Felix.

Sylvain chuckled, “Not really. Mercedes is very nice, and she had the best, uh, um, eh—”

“Oh just get it out,” groaned Annie. She had an idea where his mind was, right in the gutter.

“Best tits in the entire officer’s academy,” said Sylvain under his breath. “Must be her big heart, holding them up.”

Annie smacked him in the arm, “Okay! I get it. Gross. Maybe it’s good you didn’t say something stupid like that to her.”

“Exactly,” said Sylvain as his voice grew serious. “Trust me, it’s best if I don’t love anyone at all.”

Annette thought that sounded incredibly lonely but she didn’t want to press him on it. Maybe he was just waiting to meet the right person, it was kind of sweet if she thought about it that way. He turned the book towards Annette and showed her Ragnorak, “Will you be impressed if I can learn this in time to take on the Imperial army?”

It was a very advanced spell. Annie nodded, “Sylvain, if you can master Ragnorak in the next two months, I will let you teach me magic.”

“Deal,” grinned Sylvain as he turned back to Fire and got back to practicing.

***

Things were finally beginning to fall back into a routine for which Hubert was grateful. He liked predictability, and he needed that more than ever now that Arundel was just staying indefinitely up on the third floor in Rhea’s chambers. The Regent had shut down part of the Abyss, and Hubert did not envy the little skeleton crew of mages left doing Arundel’s bidding deep in the dark chasms under the monastery. The mages that had survived the beast outbreak were all still largely in the infirmary, and the few that weren’t were given accommodations in the knight’s barracks. Hubert’s battalion had gone from over a hundred mages, to little more than a dozen. Hubert was giving them and the regent wide breadth as they combed the Abyss. So far they’d found nothing but Hubert had a feeling it was only a matter of time before something terrible came up from the darkness.

For now he found himself in the large common room on the second floor of the main building where the curious contents from Agatha’s trunks had ended up. Paintings of dead royalty had been carefully arranged on easels and a few busts of particularly old emperors had been set on pedestals. Edelgard was squinting at one with a peculiar expression as Hubert came into the room. “Your majesty, you seem, pensive?”

Edelgard gestured for him to join her as she continued to stare at the worn down bust. It had to be one of the oldest in the collection, “Who does that look like to you?”

Hubert looked for the nameplate. “Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg, I assume.”

“Obviously, I meant does he remind you of anyone more recent?”

Hubert looked again and swallowed with discomfort at the association she was making, “I suppose he bears a passing resemblance to Jeralt.” It was more than passing, it was his exact nose and eyes. The scars were absent and the hair was different, but it was uncomfortable how much Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg looked like Jeralt Reas Eisner.

Edelgard raised her eyebrows, “It’s uncanny.”

“No, it’s a faded bust that’s over a thousand years old, it’s just a coincidence,” said Hubert knowingly. “Besides, Jeralt didn’t have any remarkable features, he looked plain, common.” Hubert pictured Jeralt in his mind’s eye and supposed that the old knight’s hair had borne similarities to Edelgard’s before it went white, however light brown was an especially common shade in Fodlan. None of this was particularly compelling to him.

“Wilhelm was more or less a commoner before he began supporting Seiros, everyone was in a way,” said Edelgard. “As the story goes he saved the saint’s life, and in turn she saved his by giving him her blood and by extension, her crest. He helped her slowly build the knights of Seiros and she made him Emperor.”

“Wilhelm died in, well a very long time ago,” said Hubert. He found himself slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t recall the year.

“Certainly, but no one knows when or how he died. He just stopped being mentioned. He’s not even in the Imperial mausoleum,” said Edelgard as she considered to stare at the statue.

Hubert narrowed his gaze in on the Emperor, “How do you remember all this?” She probably couldn’t remember what she’d eaten for dinner two nights ago and so to hear her easily rattle off imperial history was jarring.

Edelgard gave a passing look at a nearby portrait of Ionius surrounded by his eldest children, “Father drilled this into me when he was training me to succeed him. From the time I returned to the time I left for Garreg Mach we would spend hours each day reciting history and philosophy.” She tapped her knuckles on the table, “He acted as if our family never existed, and focused only on the Hresvelg’s glorious past, not their shaky future.” Edelgard gestured at the paintings, “He hid away all the portraits of them so that there was no reminder of what had been lost.” She shut her eyes, “I know he had to have watched all of them die, but I wish he had not let them die in his heart as well.”

He was unsurprised that Ionius had buried away the painful memories of his dead children, his missing consorts, and the power he once held. Ionius had fallen into nostalgia and the celebration of a legacy that was more myth than fact. Wilhelm, with his son and heir Lycaon, had battled Nemesis’ armies for decades. Eventually with Seiros and the help of the ten elites, Fodlan was united in peace. Lycaon’s death somehow ended the war, though that was always a fuzzy association in Hubert’s mind. If anything it should have weakened the Empire, but instead the enemy seemed to fade away with Lycaon’s sudden passing. By then the church had already broken ground on Garreg Mach and the Empire was free to rule itself, which it did for centuries. Then Loog had been spurred to break free, then the Alliance, and now Edelgard fought to bring them all to heel.

Edelgard hummed in such a way that he knew she was still thinking that Wilhelm looked quite a bit like Jeralt as she traced her fingers over the carving, “He did have a crest of Seiros.”

Everyone knew Wilhelm had a crest from Seiros. It was a mark of his divine right to rule. “Of course, that was Seiros’ gift to the first emperor—”

Edelgard interrupted him, “Not Wilhelm, Jeralt. When I was trying to figure out how on earth Byleth had a crest of Flames, I asked if he’d gotten it from his father. Imagine my surprise when he casually said that apparently his father had a _major_ crest of Seiros. Hanneman told him, and the professor had no clue how rare such a thing is.”

“I was not aware of that,” said Hubert softly. He had done research on the nobility, but had not been able to do very much on the members of the church. He couldn’t even get a straight answer on how old Jeralt was when he’d asked around and Byleth was useless when it came to any information. It wasn’t even as if the professor was trying to hide anything, instead it appeared he literally didn’t know much at all. Byleth knew how to kill, how to survive off the land, and could land a fish in any pond, but he didn’t know hardly anything about the history or present state of Fodlan. He was a backwater yokel and Hubert had assumed that characterized Jeralt as well. They did not seem like a father and son who talked very much about anything personal.

“He must have received it from Rhea,” continued Edelgard. She gave Hubert a small frown, “If he was born with it that would make him a secret Hresvelg. Though, I don’t think I’d blame him if he’d run away from the drama of Enbarr.”

“I don’t think your father had any secret crested siblings, they’d be a Duke for certain,” said Hubert with quiet contemplation. Spare Hresvelgs were married off to shore up political alliances, with the crested ones getting the best matches and even property and titles in some cases.

“Perhaps an illegitimate child—” Even bastard Hresvelgs were taken care of, and on the off chance they had a crest they were suddenly accommodated within the family like a legitimate heir.

The emperor was cut off by someone emitting a sharp ‘ _tsk_ ’ sound. Agatha had arrived. “I can assure you the von Vestra’s do an excellent job of keeping track of extra Hresvelgs, your majesty.” She curtsied with the kind of expertise that was severely lacking around this place.

Edelgard politely bowed her head, “Thank you for coming all the way here, I apologize I have not yet had time to properly receive you Lady von Vestra.”

“Of course your majesty, you are running a war, I am perfectly fine with waiting,” said Agatha. She gestured at the paintings, “Did I satisfactorily meet your request?”

“Yes, thank you, did my father object at all to these things being taken?” Edelgard had not spoken in person with Ionius since the coronation almost a year before. His letters, while kind and supportive, were highly infrequent.

“No your majesty, the Grand Emperor is preoccupied with his health,” said Agatha smoothly. “Besides, some of these are copies and reproductions.” She walked to a particularly big one and traced her hand along the golden frame, “This is of course an original.”

Hubert remembered this portrait and the rage of the Emperor as he stabbed his sword up through the depiction of Anselma at his side, calling her a traitor and kidnapper. Edelgard stood in front of the painting and touched the canvas where violent gash had been repaired. “Did you have it restored?”

“I saved all the portraits of the emperor with his consorts and children for posterity. This was repaired personally by the curator of the imperial gallery,” said Agatha as her eyes narrowed in on Ionius. “Your father attacked it in a fit of passion, and that in itself is a story for history.”

“I barely remember her trying to take me, we did not get far,” said Edelgard as she stared at her mother in the painting.

Anselma von Arundel had dark hair like her brother and shared his striking violet eyes, though they lacked the unnatural glow of Volkhard’s replacement. She was an attractive woman with an eye for fashion and a tenderness for Edelgard’s half siblings even when their mothers did petty things in pursuit of currying favor with Ionius. Her hands in the portrait settled protectively on a young Edelgard’s shoulders. Being exiled from the Empire while her daughter was kept in Enbarr probably killed her inside.

“From your perspective Lady von Vestra, what exactly was going on politically that my mother tried to flee but none of the other consorts attempted the same?” Edelgard took her seat at the tea table that had been prepared for them and Hubert and Agatha followed suit.

Agatha looked at the painting of Anselma again and the back at the Emperor, “I have given Hubert access to all of my late husband’s notes, those will have the most detail, I can only give you what I took in privately because I was not at the meetings of the small council.” She looked at Hubert, “Have you found anything useful yet?”

Hubert had found nothing useful at all so far because when he had tried to read over the journals the first thing he’d come across was of his grandfather recording a wonderful day of teaching Hubert and Edelgard magic. He figured he could start from the beginning, and save the pain for later, but he was too reluctant to get started. “I’m reading them chronologically, I’m still in the 1130’s.”

Agatha nodded though he had the feeling she knew he was dragging his feet. There were only two journals representing the late 1130s, and he had a lot of decades to get through, “I wish you speed in your endeavor.”

Hubert needed a full time research assistant if he was going to get through to any account of Anselma’s flight before winter was over. His grandmother looked back at Edelgard, “Your mother only had you, and usually when a consort goes a long period without a child it is likely because they have fallen from the Emperor’s favor.” She gestured to a smaller painting of Ionius with another woman and two small children, “The fourth consort, Emelia von Boramas, was dominating your father’s attention from 1165 through 1170. She had her first and second children, in that time. The Empress was by then too old to have more children, and her role had shifted purely political after she’d produced the heir and two spares. The other consorts were arranged political matches. Your mother was not, and so she lacked the protection of a contract. The Arundels then were in no position to help her.”

“What became of the consorts? They were all gone by the time I came back,”

“I was not in the palace, I lived in the city then,” said Agatha carefully. “However, I know that the Empress is dead for certain, she had a state funeral in 1172, I was there, I saw the body.” She sipped her tea, “Her children were there too, but they looked unwell. Her hair was white, and by then your father’s was too.”

Edelgard shut her eyes and composed her face, “And the other three?”

“Courtney Bergliez, though everyone just called her Cookie, was sent back to her family against her will without her children. She was married off again to a baron near her family’s land, we could probably order her here to talk,” suggested Agatha. “As for Meryn Nuvelle, it’s hard to say. As soon as the Empress was dead she was suddenly the most senior consort, and she used that position to keep her children safe for as long as possible, even at the expense of the others. I can only speculate that someone finally removed her for that.”

“I do not wish to open old wounds, especially not in members of families supporting me like Bergliez,” said Edelgard. “What about Emelia, where is she?”

“Dead, though there was no funeral,” said Agatha. “She killed herself, presumably when she found out that her children were dead.”

The sting of tears was subtle in Edelgard’s voice, “What on earth did people think was happening in the palace?”

“It was said there was a disease,” said Hubert as he recalled whispers exchanged in class. “It was said it sucked the life out of people slowly, turned their hair white, left them too weak to carry on.”

“And people believed only a few members of the royal family were affected?” Edelgard’s voice was incensed.

“There were others your majesty,” said Agatha quietly. “People were turning up dead in Enbarr, mostly small nobles, sometimes commoners. Whole families would wind up drained of blood.” Agatha gave a sharp look at a painting of Ionius’ council done in 1167, “Enemies of Ludwig von Aegir were most susceptible to this strange _disease_.”

Hubert stared at the painting and tried to identify all the people present. Duke Ludwig von Aegir still had a little red hair clinging to his head, Ionius looked strong and had no white hairs in sight. There was Bertram and Robert von Vestra standing together on the other side of the Emperor. Count Hevring had a punchable looking face and long green hair while Count Bergliez was short and looked like he did not want to be in the painting. Count Varley, Bernadetta’s grandfather, looked absolutely ancient. Volkhard Arundel was towards the back because he was a mere lord and not especially important. Beside him was a stranger with a very neutral expression on his forgettable face, “Who is that?”

Agatha looked at the person and an extremely dark expression clouded her face, “That would be Thales.”

 _Thales_. Hubert’s blood ran cold, “Tell me what you know about him.” Agatha gave him a glare and Hubert added in a, “Please.”

His grandmother composed herself, “I don’t know if that was his first or last name honestly, he wasn’t a noble. Thales was a soldier who rose up in the Imperial army.” She turned away from the painting and focused on her teacup, “He’s the one who took care of carrying out retribution for the Hrym revolt.” She frowned, “Your grandfather said he was dangerous, but whatever Thales said to Ionius convinced the Emperor to give him more power and resources after that. Thales thanked him by providing most of the manpower for the coup.”

Dark mages inside the Imperial Palace filled Hubert’s mind, “Do you remember if he was at the Insurrection?”

Agatha’s eyes shut as she took a deep breath, “Yes, he was. He favored Dark Spikes.”

The memory of his grandfather being taken down by that spell, and then years later watching his father die from it too caused Hubert’s throat to tighten. He was not a betting man but he’d wager that Thales had killed both. Hubert looked down at his gloved hands clenched in fists in his lap and dreamed of casting Dark Spikes on Lord Arundel when all this was through. He would wear the goddess’ curse of using dark magic to kill with pride if it meant killing Thales.

“What happened to him? He’s clearly not part of the council now,” Edelgard said as she left her seat to inspect the face in the portrait.

“I don’t know,” murmured Agatha. “I stopped hearing his name after the Insurrection, I believe von Aegir was quick to get rid of him. He was incredibly dangerous.”

“I know this cannot be easy to talk about,” said Edelgard as she turned away from the painting. She smiled, “Thank you also for bringing me all these portraits of my family, I appreciate it more than I know how to express.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Agatha. “Please feel free to call on me whenever you would like to hear any stories, though I am eager to return home when your curiosity has been satisfied.”

“I would enjoy that very much Lady von Vestra, and I do not plan to keep you here too long,” said Edelgard. She had a delicate little watch necklace that she checked, “I am afraid however that I have another meeting with my uncle to get to. We'll have to meet again, I have more questions about the consorts and their relationships with my father.”

“Do you require my presence at your meeting?” Hubert was already up and out of his chair, ready to follow.

Edelgard shook her head, “No, he’s just showing his influence and power by wasting my time. He eats up hours of my afternoons just waxing poetic about defeating Rhea.” Edelgard gave a very thin smile, “I figure if he’s just boring me he’s not doing anything more terrible.”

“Of course, please let me know if you ever need me to interrupt with urgent business that requires your immediate attention,” said Hubert with a small bow.

Edelgard let out a dry laugh, “I might take you up on that if he continues.”

After the Emperor left, Hubert debated whether or not to tell his grandmother that Thales was Arundel. He ultimately decided against it; he wasn’t sure what Agatha would do with such information, and he didn’t want her to spend a carriage ride back to Enbarr with the regent as she contemplated how best to kill him. He had a feeling that would only trim down the von Vestras by another family member.

“Thank you for doing this, the information has been helpful, and I think you are bringing closure to her majesty,” said Hubert.

“It is my duty to serve,” said Agatha softly. “However, I have one more thing just for you. It’s in my room, I can go fetch it now.”

“Of course, do you mind meeting me in the library? I’d like to speak with Linhardt about something, and that’s where he’s usually found,” said Hubert. He had questions about how crests were given to people and if Edelgard’s little Wilhelm-Jeralt conspiracy theory had any credibility. If the Emperor was right then it made sense now why the Agarthans had assassinated Jeralt. At the time Hubert thought it was mere spite to lure Byleth to the Sealed Forest, but there were so many simpler, lower profile ways of going about that. Yet if Jeralt was their enemy for centuries, perhaps he’d been a target long before Byleth picked up the Sword of the Creator.

Linhardt was not in the library but Hubert found someone he was admittedly more inclined to speak with. Mercedes was reading at a table near the door. Hubert hadn’t had a chance to really speak with her in a week or so. While he didn’t want to think she was avoiding him on purpose, he had noticed she’d been scarce. “Mercedes, do you have a moment?”

Mercedes gave a quick look over her shoulder at him, “Of course.” Hubert gingerly stepped into the library and came to join her. Taking a seat here felt like sliding in late to an afternoon reason class, though he would have never sat this close to anyone while in school. Their shoulders were practically touching. Her book appeared to be titled _Forbidden Fables of Faerghus_ and had a strange demonic beast looking creature on its front.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” started Hubert.

“I often come here to read before my infirmary shift,” said Mercedes as she turned a page.

“I’ve gotten some more books you might find interesting, if you’d like to join me later,” offered Hubert. “Perhaps we could do some research, have some tea—”

“Oh, well, I’d be interested in helping with the research, but, um, that’s all.” She stole a glance at him before returning her gaze to the page.

“That’s fine,” murmured Hubert. Her eyes were firmly fixed on her book and her voice was small. Hubert felt like things were distinctly wrong, “Have I done something to upset you?”

Mercedes looked surprised by his question and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before folding over the corner page of her book. She shut it and continued to stare at the cover instead of looking at him. “I’ve just been feeling quite bad since what happened in the Sealed Forest.” She fidgeted with the embossed title, tracing the letters, “You gave me a little warning, and I can’t help but feel awful knowing that you knew what was going to happen to your battalion.” Her blue eyes came up to meet his and he noticed they were twinged with red as if at any moment she might cry.

Hubert felt his chest tighten at the question, “I can’t say I knew precisely how things would play out but I had an inkling.” There was little point in denying it even if he did not care to elaborate on his role assigning the order to meddle to Jeritza. He didn't want to look like he was trying to shift the blame to her brother.

Mercedes nodded and discreetly wiped at her nose, “I’ve been treating your mages in the infirmary, I think it would mean a lot to them if you checked in on them. They’re pretty banged up but I’m sure a visit from their commander would lift their spirits.”

“Eh,” Hubert drew in a slow breath. They were hardly _his_ mages; the battalion firmly answered to Arundel first. Yet from the dreadful sadness in Mercedes’ eyes Hubert thought perhaps it best if he humored her request. “I’ll be visiting with Caspar today, I’ll be sure to stop and chat with them.” He’d let it be a very short chat to appease her gentle heart.

Mercedes smiled, “That means a great deal to me, thank you.” She paused and chewed on her lip. He noticed she did it often when it looked like there was much on her mind. The sight of it warmed him deep inside as he longed to know what she was thinking about. A small blush crossed her features as she noted him staring and Hubert averted his eyes off her. “There are actually a few things from that day I would like to understand—”

“Perhaps this isn’t the best place to discuss this,” said Hubert as he glanced around the library. It was hardly private.

“Maybe you can shed some light on it then later in your office?” suggested Mercedes as if lending him the benefit of the doubt. "We could talk about this over actual tea."

He’d take whatever he could get, “How does ten sound?”

“Late,” said Mercedes with a little lightness returning to her voice. “Maybe if I accept what you tell me I’ll even let you walk me back to my room at the end of the night.” She flashed him a tiny grin and Hubert clung to that smile as if it were a raft in a turbulent sea.

“And who is this?” Agatha’s sudden question from behind him practically made Hubert jump. He had to awkwardly twist on the bench in order to look at his grandmother. Agatha had a slim book in her arms and did not look amused.

“This is Mercedes von Martritz,” said Hubert with far too much geniality in his voice. His grandmother gave him a quick once over as if she sensed something was off about the way he was speaking. Hubert felt suddenly transparent under his grandmother’s gaze as it passed between him and Mercedes sitting so close together at the table.

“Von Martritz, now that is an uncommon name to hear these days,” said Agatha. “Are you Lucius’ daughter?”

Hubert watched as Mercedes grew incredibly pale, “No, Lucius is my uncle, my father was Daniel.”

Agatha seemed to be placing the name in her mind, and her eyes were alight with understanding. “Ah, so I imagine you were born after your father’s death. Your mother must have been Serena Lamine?”

“Sabina,” corrected Mercedes softly.

“Right, and she was taken in by the Bartels,” supplied Agatha. “And then she fled with you but left her son behind. That caused quite a stir.”

Mercedes’ eyes were now truly brimming with tears, and her voice struck a slightly higher pitch than normal, “You seem quite familiar with my history.” Hubert wished he knew a delicate way to end the conversation. His grandmother had cut her teeth on court politics in Enbarr and was a professional collector of secrets; Mercedes had effectively grown up a commoner a country away. This was not an even playing field. He got up hoping that would signal an end to his grandmother’s interrogation.

“Gerhard von Bartels came demanding that my husband help track you down. Now, my husband had spies in many places, and he could have found you if he wanted, but Gerhard was brutish and unpleasant. He did not inspire our sympathies, especially not with such absolutely vile rumors clinging to him,” said Agatha. Hubert recalled Mercedes’ confession about the reason why she had run away from home; her father had wanted to breed her for more crests in his line. Vile did not even begin to describe it.

Hubert gave Agatha a hard stare imploring her to stop. Agatha arched one thin eyebrow and sighed, “Then the Hrym revolt happened, and we all know how that turned out.” She gave Mercedes a measured once over, “If I did not know any better I might think ruin follows you to every place or person you touch.”

Mercedes looked as if she’d been slapped by the comment. Hubert touched Agatha at the elbow and spoke in a low voice, “That is more than enough.”

Agatha forced a smile, “A pleasure, Mercedes von Martritz.”

Mercedes mumbled something that sounded like a halfhearted, “Nice to meet you,” as Hubert pulled his grandmother away from the library and down the hall towards his office.

As soon as they were safely out of earshot Hubert looked at his grandmother in disbelief, “What was that about?”

“You were mooning over that woman,” said Agatha sharply. “Remember your responsibilities. Remember you’re a von Vestra.”

“I was not _mooning_ ,and even if I was that was a completely inappropriate way to speak to someone I might be interested in,” said Hubert with a frown.

“Lamine, Hubert she’s from a crested line,” said Agatha, matching him frown for frown. “You are leading a war against crests. How do you think such a thing would look?”

Hubert didn’t know how to respond, “Nothing is happening between us.”

“Really. So you were just arranging to meet in your office, for what? Tea was it? Then you’d walk her to her room, and what then?”

“How much did you hear?” He was off his game if he’d allowed his own grandmother to spy upon him.

“More than enough,” said Agatha sharply as they arrived at his office door. “It’s one thing if you want to have a mistress, but don’t go repeating your father’s mistakes—”

“That is not fair,” snapped Hubert. He could feel a sudden heat in his face at the comparison. His father occupied his weekends with parties, sex and gambling and struggled with his job and parental responsibilities. Hubert had given almost his entire self over to Edelgard’s war, and he felt he’d earned this one thing for himself. He glowered as he got out his keys and opened the door with an unnecessary amount of force.

“I am protecting you,” whispered Agatha as she followed him inside. “If I recall correctly she was the one who blackmailed a man after having an affair with him in order to get sent to this school. She’s dangerous.”

Hubert had relied on his grandmother’s help to discretely collect up dirt on the other students of Garreg Mach. Her rumor network had not disappointed, yet now he wished Agatha had never heard of Mercedes. “I do not believe it went quite like that.”

“Do you know this for a fact?” Agatha challenged him with a look. Hubert said nothing because as far as Mercedes knew, he had no idea about her prior affair. There was hardly a good way to bring up how much he knew about her. “Hubert you must tread carefully right now. You may be a minister in the cabinet but you are still little more than a untested child to the likes of Hevring or Bergliez. They will not take you seriously if you do not take yourself seriously.”

Hubert shut his eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to maintain his composure. He shifted the conversation away from the sex he was barely having, “What do you have for me?”

Agatha passed him the book she’d been protectively cradling in her arms. It looked much like his grandfather’s journals that he was too reluctant to open just yet. He cautiously cracked the cover open and recognized Bertram’s writing, “Is this just another journal?”

“No, it’s more important than that,” said Agatha as she shut the door. “This is your grandfather’s transcription of the first Minister of the Imperial Household’s memoir.”

Hubert’s eyes skimmed over the first line, _My given name was Vestra, because I belonged to my mother and no one else_. Hubert shut the book, “Are there other copies or is this it?”

“The original is supposedly in a vault in the family tomb,” whispered Agatha. “After the reigning minister retires, it is up to his successor to burn the previous copy.”

“That seems dramatic,” sighed Hubert. It sounded perfectly fitting for their family.

“Every minister of the Imperial Household is supposed to sit down and transcribe this account word for word as part of their training,” explained Agatha. “It’s a rite of passage, and for your eyes only.”

“Have you read it?”

“No,” said Agatha as if scandalized by such an idea. “As soon as I realized what I’d found I knew I needed to bring it to you. This is something your grandfather was extremely cagey about. It’s private, and I’m not going to disrespect him by reading it.”

For Hubert this was just one more painful set of secrets to uncover. “Did Robert ever transcribe a copy?”

Agatha sighed, “I found the book in his things when cleaning out his house. He would have been given it at eighteen or nineteen to transcribe. I don’t think he ever got to it, because I sure as hell opened every single book I could find when I realized what it was.”

“Was it out in the open?”

“No, it was well hidden, I don’t think he had any intention of letting it see the light of day to be honest,” said Agatha as she began to circle his office looking at the books and oddities.

“I’ll keep it safe,” said Hubert as he unlocked his desk drawer and placed the transcription inside. He was still sour with her for how she had spoken to and about Mercedes but he also knew that if he spent too much time defending Mercedes, then Agatha would only double down on her opinions. He locked the drawer and focused on his grandmother, “I would deeply appreciate it if you kept your comments about my personal life just between you and I. If you take issue with how I conduct myself, then tell me, but don’t drag some innocent women through the mud just to prove a point.”

Agatha was at his mantle where he kept a tiny portrait of his grandparents. She looked back at him, “Just remember that you will likely have to marry for political purposes to further Edelgard’s agenda. Don’t go doing anything that can’t be undone.”

“Don’t get your hopes up that I’ll live long enough to wed,” said Hubert in an attempt to sting her back.

Agatha pursed her lips and looked back at the portrait, “I understand what it is like to be alone Hubert. I know the compulsion to fill that void, I just ask that you be smart about it. You were being too obvious. You never know what people will see and pick up on, give them nothing.” She slightly rearranged the objects and sighed. “There are other women to choose from, aim for someone without a crest, like that singer. Remember you’re a Vestra—”

“As if I could forget,” said Hubert curtly as he checked his pocket watch. He had little interest in seducing Dorothea and had a feeling she not enjoy it if he tried. “I apologize, I have another meeting to get to, if you’ll excuse me.” It was a lie. Hubert had no meeting, and so he found himself making good on his halfhearted promise to Mercedes. He was finally going to sit down and talk to the surviving members of his wretched battalion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People liked Agatha but I have to remind you she's still a Vesta (aka, not _that_ nice)
> 
> Also, from my paltry knowledge of Latin, Vestra is a feminine possessive pronoun which I've always taken as signalling that Hubert 'belongs' to Edelgard. I don't know how this was altered in the localization because I know even less about Japanese than I do about Latin.


	29. Understanding

Hubert marched to the infirmary still charged up from his argument with Agatha. It did not take him long to cross an innocent victim on his warpath. “Why are you lurking out here Varley?” He immediately regretted barking the question as Bernadetta emitted a small yelp and physically shrank from him.

She hid behind a parcel she was clutching, “Uh, uh, could you give this Caspar? Please don’t kill me.” Bernadetta flinched as he took the present out of her shaking hands.

Hubert sighed and tried to soften his voice, “Bernadetta, I apologize—” She was already racing from him and quickly leaving earshot. _Wonderful_.

Caspar was sitting up in bed as Hubert came into the infirmary. “You’re looking well,” said Hubert with surprise as he pulled up a chair to sit by the bed. Caspar had taken an axe to the chest and yet looked leagues better than Hubert had after his wound.

“Apparently I have you to thank for that,” said Caspar as he inspected the package from Bernadetta with extreme interest. He gave a shake and was met with the thumping of mystery goods inside.

“How so?”

“Lin said while your heal spell is, in his words, laughable, you probably saved my life,” said Caspar as he began tearing the box open. “I think that makes us even on putting each other in danger and pulling each other out.”

Hubert wasn’t accustomed to saving anyone. He wasn’t sure how to respond so he focused instead upon his purpose here, “I meant to come sooner but things have been busy and you were always sleeping every time I stopped by.”

Caspar wasn’t even paying attention as he pulled out a tin of cookies and a painting. “Oh wow, Bernie did this, for me?”

Hubert stared at the lovely sunset view Bernadetta had painted. There was a note on the back that Caspar kept reading over, _This is the spot you took me to, I hope it brightens up your view as much as you brightened up mine._ Caspar was blushing.

“Bernadetta seems fond of you,” said Hubert with amusement as Caspar kept smiling at the gift.

“I mean I did almost die, she’s just being nice,” insisted Caspar as he set the painting on his night stand. Caspar kept stealing looks at it and Hubert wondered if this was what obvious looked like. He hoped that was not how he looked when he was around Mercedes.

As if conjuring her by thought alone, Mercedes arrived for her shift. Hubert kept his eyes to himself even as from his periphery he could see her changing into her apron and hanging up her shawl. Unfortunately Caspar was not on the same page, “Hey, Mercie! Want some cookies?”

Mercedes came up behind Hubert with a bit of stiffness to her movements, “And who made you these?”

“Bernie,” said Caspar as he held out the tin towards Mercedes to share. It smelled of cinnamon and a hint of warmth as if they were freshly made.

“Oh does this mean Bernadetta finally came inside the infirmary to see you?” teased Mercedes before taking a bite.

“Uh, no, but she gave these to Hubert to deliver,” said Caspar with a hint of hope in his voice.

“That’s progress,” shrugged Mercedes. She looked down at Hubert, “Bernadetta has been lingering at the door for the last few days leaving piles of cookies in her wake.”

Hubert declined to mention that he had completely scared her off. Caspar looked up from his prized tin of sweets, “Hey, Mercie, you’re a girl, can I ask you a question?”

Mercedes chuckled, “No Caspar, I’m a woman.”

Caspar grimaced, “Oh, okay—”

“What’s your question?” She reached around Hubert and helped herself to another cookie. He focused on her hands and how nimble they were dancing in and out of the tin.

“What can I do to show a girl, sorry, a _woman_ , that I like her?” Caspar was looking at Mercedes like she was a magical oracle sent to guide him down a path of romance.

Hubert wasn’t looking at her face but he could hear the smile in her voice, “Well, aside from just telling her how you feel, you could cook her her favorite meal.”

Caspar winced, “Eh, let’s not bring the kitchen into this, I uh, I’m not really welcome back there.”

Mercedes hummed in amusement; she sounded a little lighter and her spirits improved from the library. “I suppose you could get her favorite flower from the greenhouse, or take her someplace interesting”

“Thanks for the suggestions Mercie,” said Caspar slowly. “Although I’m not really sure what I can do from this bed, unless you’re willing to discharge—”

“Make Hubert do it for you, since he landed you here,” suggested Mercedes with a cooling voice as she patted Hubert’s shoulder.

His whole body tensed at her touch. She didn’t linger to see what his response would be before getting to her duties. He got the distinct sense she was still wary of him, and any momentary warmness was for her patient alone. Hubert sighed and looked at Caspar, “I did come here to give you a proper apology, if you need me to help you with this I suppose that can be my penance.”

“Eh, I think Bernie would hate it if I sent you after her,” said Caspar softly. “She’s pretty afraid of you.”

Hubert drew in a deep breath as he folded his arms. He could not help but stare guiltily at the bandages peeking out from Caspar’s shirt, “I am very sorry. I shouldn’t have been so short towards you down in the Abyss, you were only trying your best to help.”

“I don’t think you’re mean,” said Caspar. “Not on purpose anyway. I think you just worry a lot for others and that makes you stressed out. You could yell less, but, I know how hard it is sometimes not to shout.” Caspar reached to his nightstand and produced a deck of cards, “But since you’re here, do you want to play a few rounds of something? It’s pretty boring being stuck here.”

Hubert hated card games that were based on luck instead of skill, but he humored Caspar’s request. They played for cookies, which Hubert didn’t mind gambling for since he did not mind losing sweets he had no intention of eating. All the while his senses were primed for noticing Mercedes’ movements through the perimeter of the infirmary. She was dressing wounds and checking in on the other patients in her care, all his battered battalion.

Out of their masks and heavily bandaged, his battalion looked less impressive than he remembered from the battlefield. In their robes and pointed hoods they all appeared like shapeless masses of indeterminate height, but now in their pajamas he could see there were men and women among them. It was jarring to realize how very young some of them were. Judging by their baby fat and pimply faces they could have just as easily been students at Garreg Mach in a different uniform.

After losing all his unwanted cookies to Caspar, Hubert figured he ought to be going. “If you find yourself in need of a messenger I am happy to deliver a love letter to Bernadetta on your behalf,” offered Hubert as he got up. “I can be very discreet.”

Caspar looked like he’d been caught cheating on a test, “Uh, oh okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hubert smirked and gave the brawler a small bow, “Don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me.” With great reluctance he worked his way over to the dark mage infested area of the infirmary to make good on his promise to Mercedes to check in on his battalion.

“Oh, General von Vestra,” said the startled youth whose bed he was standing at. The boy’s hand snapped up to a shaky salute.

“At ease,” murmured Hubert as he clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed what remained of his battalion. There were merely thirteen mages in the infirmary, and an additional five carrying out Arundel’s impossible orders to descend into the chasm of the abyss. It had been six until yesterday when a scaffold collapsed in the pitch black sending some unfortunate dastard to his death. “How are you recuperating?”

The dark mage looked at Hubert like he was the second to last person on earth he wished to speak to, “I’m well, as well as I can be sir.” Hubert nodded as his eyes continued to assess the state of the bed ridden mages. The one he was speaking to pursed his lips, “Is it true sir that we’re being demoted to the beast guard?”

A hush fell over the dark mages as everyone turned their attention to Hubert. Mercedes was watching him too as she finished changing a bandage out on one of them. Hubert shook his head, “That is the first I’ve heard of it. Who suggested this would be the case?”

“Lord Arundel,” murmured the mage. “He said that was all we would be good for, and that the only thing saving us was the current lack of crest stones.”

Hubert didn’t want to admit that the term Beast Guard meant nothing to him but he could figure it out from context. It would hardly shock him to learn that the demonic beasts were formed from punished soldiers or prisoners of war. “I will speak with Lord Arundel about reassignments.”

That did not conjure a positive reaction. Some of them looked downright sick at the prospect. Hubert pretended to be indecisive for them, “Or I suppose I may keep you here.”

“Thank you General von Vestra,” said the dark mage quickly. His voice cracked as he spoke and Hubert pegged for no more than sixteen or seventeen. He wondered what had brought this youth and the others to the ranks of Arundel’s shadowy forces in the first place. That would bring Hubert a step closer to understanding how and where the Agarthans operated.

“Where did you serve prior to this?”

The dark mage cleared his throat, “I was recruited this time last year sir, I’ve been stationed here and at Fort Merceus.”

“Where were you recruited from?” None of them had any particularly interesting features that linked them to any part of the world. He wished to know how they were tempted to this path, and what sort of promises had been made to get them here.

“Me? I’m just from the Alliance, nowhere special,” murmured the dark mage, though from the discomfort in his voice Hubert suspected he didn’t wish to share more.

“I was merely attempting to place your accent, no need for alarm,” lied Hubert as he forced a semblance of a smile. It did not seem to relax the mage. “Anyway, I just wished to stop by and offer my encouragements to you all in your recoveries.” Mercedes made this farce worth it as she gave him a small smile and mouthed ‘Thank you’ to him before he headed out.

Hubert idled the rest of his evening taking dinner with Hanneman and Agatha before returning to his office to prepare. If Mercedes was going to drop by with tea, he would be ready this time. First there was strategic seating to figure out. He gave a long look at his heavy arm chair and left it where it was rather than try to haul it across the room. Instead Hubert cleared off Seteth’s old long sofa. It kept them further apart than the love seat, but still together at a safe distance. Hubert stacked some maps on the love seat just in case Mercedes tried to sit there instead.

With a satisfactory seating solution found, Hubert moved onto the books. He paused at his piles sorted by theme and wondered what Mercedes might like. His first instinct was to reach for nice things like her — Seteth’s hand written collection of fairy tales and fables might have hidden histories buried in their pages — and paused as he recalled her telling him once how much she liked ghost stories. Hubert liked horror too; he found he began to chase the feeling of being unsettled as a teenager when Edelgard was filling his head with all the horrible things she’d experienced. Finding something worse than her real life was rare, but when he did find something darker it was a sliver of a distraction to take his mind out of the dungeons of the Imperial palace. He found a book with a suitably dark looking cover and hoped she would like it. It appeared to be an Agarthan medical text if he had to guess by the eye and dark magic circles over body parts in its pages.

With Mercedes’ book selected, Hubert focused on the pile of historical records to find his own reading material. He gave a long glance at his grandfather’s journals; reading them was going to be painful but he was going to have to do it. He had names and terms to search out now — Thales, Agarthans, Nabateans — that would help him hopefully uncover the start of this conflict. The journals were what he had to focus on if he was to make any headway.

Hubert looked towards his desk and thought about the Vestra memoir hidden inside it. He wondered if it would be easier to read the words of someone long dead than his childhood hero’s. That was ancient history though, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing anything particularly informative for their current problems if he escaped into that. He had to face the end of his grandfather’s life and the start of his own if he had any hopes of finding Thales. Hubert had to know how deep this conspiracy ran in order to fully extract the poison that was the things that slithered in the dark.

He glanced at the stack of journals, neatly labeled with their years, and grabbed the one he was most reluctant to look inside, 1160. He had to get this over with and it was best just to expose the wound and get to healing. His father had always insisted that Bertram hadn’t wanted Hubert around in the beginning. Hubert had refused to believe Robert, though as he grew up he began to understand why the proud and conservative family patriarch might be inclined to cover up a bastard child. Now he finally had a means of learning the truth.

The pages smelled like pipe tobacco and aged ink. The journal began with some small notes about the new year’s celebration and Adrestia’s founders day. Hubert cautiously flipped forward through the first few weeks of the year and landed on the 17th, his birthday. He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for, but he had at least thought there would be a little bit more. His grandfather’s handwriting was usually crisp and clear, but the entry was anything but calm. The sentences were in fragments as if Bertram was in a rush or perhaps too enraged to bother with proper grammar.

_17 Great Tree Moon._

_Robert invited us to the house on urgent business, was expecting blackmail or debt or something broken, got baby instead. Aggie always joked we should have another, and apparently here he is. Hubert; I named him bright heart because he looks so dark — a commoner’s son, Robert didn’t even take her name — said she was an exotic dancer, we’ll have to make something else up. The infant is small, sickly, and might not even make it through the year, but problems rarely take care of themselves._

That was it for the day, and the next entry picked up with mundane matters of state. Hubert reread the last little bit a few times over. It was harsh, it was honest, and it was never meant for his eyes to see. Hubert looked at his own notebooks over on the other side of the office and figured they were much the same. His daily logs were on updates and briefings he’d have to give, things he’d noted, questions he had. Someday, someone might read over them with the same sorts of burning questions — what was he thinking the day that Arundel killed his father perhaps — and find boring itineraries and indifferent observations. They formed a cold portrait of a cold person.

Hubert skimmed the next few pages. There was a little note about sending an inquiry to the von Ochs about adopting off Robert’s mistake. In his journals, Bertram aired out his frustrations that Agatha had moved into Robert’s house to care for Hubert, effectively abandoning her duties. In 1160 there were only three consorts, but apparently they fought constantly. Hubert’s sudden and unexpected arrival into the family had thrown things into total chaos for the orderly von Vestras. He was born another problem to fix. Hubert carefully closed the journal and added it back between 1159 and 1161.

He ought to have expected something like that he supposed. It still stung but now he knew his father hadn’t been lying after all. Hubert pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought about his father. Robert was frustrating in his honesty; he wasn’t a liar, but he also didn’t understand when to soften a truth such as when explaining to his son where he came from and what that meant. He was emotional and passionate and all the things Hubert tried so hard not to be.

After a few deep breaths Hubert knew he had to start with the most recent journals and work his way backward. Bertram had not survived enough hours of 1171 to leave an entry, and so the last volume was 1170. It was the year of magic and warp tag, and the political upheaval of a thousand year old dynasty. Hubert pulled out his own notebook and began recording his observations as he tried to ignore the burning in the back of his throat as he read over Bertram’s words.

Thankfully a soft knocking interrupted him. Hubert was too eager to put down the journal and open his office door to greet Mercedes. She held up her tea pot with a sad expression, “I found some Almyran pine needle tea in the infirmary, I hope you don’t mind it.”

Hubert suppressed his natural instinct to make a sarcastic remark about pine needles being used to make tea and gestured for her to come in. “Oh you straightened up in here,” said Mercedes as she walked into the small seating area. The table was already clear with his two mismatched tea cups clean and ready. He’d even secured cream and sugar.

“I have been receiving an influx of materials, I needed to organize them,” he said as he gave a cursory look at the various stacks of books. “Although the sorting scheme may only make sense to me.”

Mercedes took her seat on the couch as she poured them each a cup. Hubert took his preferred plain mug and left her with the ornate tea cup she’d complimented last time. The smell of the pine needle tea was off putting. It reminded him of resin, and not in a good way. He wondered if there was anything people did not attempt to make tea out of if pine needles qualified as enough plant to steep.

Mercedes was quietly breathing in the steam off her tea with her eyes shut. She had slipped off her boots to tuck her feet up inside her wool skirt and looked meditative. Hubert watched her in silence as he waited for her to start the conversation.

“Thank you for checking in on your battalion. I think if you take the time to learn their names and stories, you might be kinder to them,” whispered Mercedes. Her blue eyes opened and trained upon him, “Do you think you could explain to me why so many of them had to die in the first place?”

She was diving right into the tough questions. Hubert focused on his tea instead of her face. “There was a decision made to break the crest stones so that they could not be used for whatever they were intended for, such as use in battle. The objective was to distract Arundel and damage his battalion.”

“Those mages are your battalion,” said Mercedes softly into her own teacup.

“Only in name,” said Hubert. He did his best to keep his voice from growing defensive. “They serve me only as it pleases the Regent.”

“Maybe you should try to change that instead of killing them off,” suggested Mercedes. “They might be more loyal to someone who is sympathetic to them, who treats them like humans rather than fodder.”

“It was only supposed to be two or three stones broken,” said Hubert. This frustrated him deeply; he and Ferdinand had nearly been beaten by the beast they’d been fighting, and others had close calls too. “But, I gave the order so the responsibility is mine that it ended up being so many.”

Mercedes sipped at her tea in silence, “But you didn’t go break them?”

“If I did, nothing would have stopped me from being exposed and turning into a beast myself,” whispered Hubert. He thought about how the Lamine relic seared his hand down in the Abyss. It was the first time he’d ever felt his lack of a crest so acutely. “I do not like ordering people to draw blood on my behalf. I prefer to carry out such things on my own because then I can ensure my orders are followed exactly.”

Mercedes just nodded and looked weary. It was tempting to place the blame on Jeritza’s improvisation but that didn’t feel genuine to him. He knew full well that giving Jeritza any order came with the Death Knight taking creative liberties with its interpretation. That unpleasant fact was at the forefront of his mind today as he assigned the weekly schedules and honored Mercedes’ request to go on patrol with her brother. He suspected strongly she was only interested in going in an attempt to save her friends if her brother found them.

Hubert wasn’t sure what would be worse, killing Dimitri and prompting the Kingdom to join the fight, or capturing Dimitri as per Arundel’s wishes. Hubert would continue to hope Dimitri was not found at all. At least with Mercedes out there, even if the prince and his accomplices escaped, no one would be dead as long as the Death Knight didn’t turn on his sister for meddling. That prospect made Hubert’s blood run cold. He was working on a fail safe for that scenario now, though he did not wish for her to know of his suspicions.

Hubert watched her closely, “I’d also like to apologize for earlier, for how my grandmother spoke to you.”

Mercedes’ eyes lifted from her tea and stared at him, “She’s not exactly charming.”

“Where do you think I get my manners from?” asked Hubert quietly. He saw the corner of Mercedes’ lip flicker up briefly. Hubert stomached a sip of tea to be polite before continuing, “My grandmother has made her concerns about you and her perceptions of my intentions towards you uncomfortably clear. I have asked her to refrain from speaking to you.” He took a deep breath knowing that in a few seconds it was very possible Mercedes would want nothing more to do with him, but it was important to him that she understood Agatha’s venomous words. “When I was gathering information on our classmates and the faculty here, I relied on my grandmother’s network to collect stories and rumors. She uncovered evidence that you’d had an affair, and believes you blackmailed your way here. That is why she was so unpleasant.”

There was a slight tremor to her hand as Mercedes set her teacup down. “I see.”

Hubert forced down some more tea and wished she would give him more of a reaction to work with. Anger and disgust he could deal with but right now she just seemed hurt and tired. “I didn’t probe for details, I just know your acceptance here coincided with a very generous donation to the church from a minor noble family with a son near your age.”

She looked up at him with a resigned expression, “Do you want to know about it?”

He felt off balance at the question. “I don’t need to know.” For the first time ever, Hubert was convinced the less he knew about something the better.

“I’ve never really spoken about it, not even with Annie,” muttered Mercedes as she scooped extra sugar into her tea and slowly stirred it in. “I thought I loved him, well, I suppose if I thought I did I must have,” whispered Mercedes. “He was an very handsome war monk, kind and gentle, and he romanced me in the most perfect way. I used to daydream about what our future together would look like. I thought surely fate had brought us to each other despite the fact he was engaged to someone else.” She swallowed back what he suspected were tears and looked back at him, “I don’t mean to ramble on, it’s just something I’ve never gotten off my chest.”

“I’ll listen,” offered Hubert, because that was what he suspected she needed. The fact was though that hearing about her in love with someone — handsome, kind, gentle — seemed to only further cement in his heart how she would never want him in the way he desired her. Perhaps for that reason he needed to hear it and let it settle in.

“No, you’d think I was silly and boring,” said Mercedes with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“I promise I won’t,” he whispered as he leaned his cheek against his fist to watch her. He wanted to uncover her slowly, not like these books he was racing through, but like watching a play unfold on stage. He wanted to know whatever little secrets she wanted to share with him, not the cruel ones he’d discovered without context.

Mercedes took a deep breath and her eyes were distant as if viewing some forgotten history. “I imagined getting married and living near the the northern monastery, or wherever we’d be stationed,” said Mercedes as she settled back in her seat with her teacup clutched close to her chest. “We’d have a little house that would be warm in the winter and perfectly breezy in the summer. And Annie would visit, and,” Mercedes’ voice trailed off. “Maybe my mother and father would visit too.” She gnawed on her lip as she considered the next part, “And we’d have little babies, no less than three in my mind.” Her voice was small and broken up with suppressed tears. She took in a deep breath and forced a thin smile, “And that’s what I used to want.”

It sounded like a perfectly beautiful life for her, and one he could never provide. “How did it end?”

“In an ugly way,” murmured Mercedes. “One evening I was around his desk while I waited for him to come back to his room. He had a letter to his parents sitting out, and it was about me.” Mercedes let out a bitter laugh. “It was him finally telling them about me, which he told me he’d done almost a year before. In his letter he expressed an interest in marrying me instead of his fiancee, but his motivations were far from love. He detailed my small dowry and paltry inheritance, acknowledging it wasn’t much at all. But then he’d gone and explained that I had a crest and it made me more valuable, possibly worth the risk of angering his betrothed’s family.”

“So, he did wish to marry you,” said Hubert softly. It was strange how threatening that fact felt to him when he knew he had no business feeling anything of the sort.

Mercedes sighed, “For all the wrong reasons. In the end I wrote a letter to his intended and her family, who happened to be decently influential. I was an evil temptress in their eyes, the other woman, and they wanted me as a far away as possible. I was bribed for my silence to let the families save face, and given a choice of distant assignments from Fhirdiad.” For a moment she looked like she might break beneath her sadness until she forced a smile, “I requested that I be sent to Garreg Mach because I knew Annie was attending school here so at least I’d have one person I knew. Honestly, I thought I’d just get stuffed in the infirmary as a cleric, not actually put in the officer’s academy. My crest, which I had hidden for years, caught the church’s attention.” She spared a look at Hubert, “It meant moving even farther from home, but I didn’t want to go back right away. My father was, well, ashamed isn’t right, he was disappointed in me I think. I don’t know that my mother understood what happened, or noticed that I was gone.”

He wondered what he ought say. At this point he had shifted on the sofa so much as she was speaking that he was close enough to kiss her. That was decidedly the wrong response and so he froze in place instead as he tried to predict what she might want him to say or do. Perhaps taking her hand would be appreciated and so Hubert subtly tried to reach out.

Mercedes swallowed uncomfortably as she leaned back against the arm of the sofa and away from him, “And that was my unfortunate affair. I learned a great deal from it.”

Clearly she did not wish to be so near to him. Hubert wasn’t sure how to respond, and so he looked at his piles of books instead, “So, what are you interested in doing this evening?”

The look he got back was difficult for him to fully understand. She looked let down by his reaction and Hubert worried he was supposed to say something more comforting about what she’d shared. Mercedes set her tea cup down, “I’m not very interested in doing anything with you, not tonight at least.”

Hubert let out a soft, “Oh.” He hadn’t expected her rejection to hurt this much. He wondered if it was worse because of the night in the infirmary. Now she had seen him for what he was and was done. That had taken less than a week.

“I should go,” murmured Mercedes as she started to gather up her things. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Wait, I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” said Hubert. He retreated to his end of the sofa and grabbed a pillow. He held it up to show her, “A solution.” He placed it between them, “As long as this is here, we can’t be in each other’s space.”

Mercedes stared at it in confusion, “What?”

“The pillow stays here to ensure propriety between us,” said Hubert. He scratched at the back of his neck and hoped he did not come off as desperate as he felt, “I have enjoyed your assistance with this research. It’s too much to get through on my own, and I’m not sure who else to ask. Linhardt doesn’t have the focus for this sort of thing, Ferdinand would probably run his mouth to the wrong individual, but you, you have your own curiosity to sate.” He did not want to face the harsh truths of these books all alone.

“So you’re proposing we’ll just read in silence together?” The mistrust ran deep in her words.

“Yes,” Hubert assured her. “I can go sit at my desk or the armchair if it makes you more comfortable.” She still did not appear convinced. Hubert took a deep breath, “Mercedes, engaging in relations with you in the infirmary was very enjoyable, but the fact is I need a research partner far more than a lover. I wouldn’t say no to more of that if the mood strikes you, but I’m not expecting it.” From her facial expression that seemed like the last thing she wanted to do.

He was afraid if she left now that would be it and she would walk out of every aspect of his life. Her blue eyes were flickering over him in a way that made his stomach twist. At this point he had little left to lose, “I recognize I will never be the handsome monk with a charming cottage, but I will never treat your crest like a commodity to be traded. I enjoy your company, and have very much come to appreciate your help if you’re willing to give it.” He leaned and grabbed the book he’d selected for her and passed it over, “If this interests you please stay, and if not then I will attempt to befriend a new member for this awful tea and book club. Perhaps Caspar is free in the evenings.”

Mercedes smirked at the suggestion as she took a look at the black book with the great big eye on the cover. “Alright, one book can’t hurt.” Relief spread through Hubert’s chest as he watched her get comfortable and open up the cover to start reading.

***

Mercedes’ yawn was full of regrets over staying in Hubert’s office entranced by that book until one in the morning. Now she was bleary eyed and half awake for her first patrol with her brother. “Good morning Emile,” said Mercedes warmly as she met him outside the armory as requested. She was bundled up in her scarf and coat and not one but two pairs of wool socks.

Jeritza closed his eyes at the use of the name Emile and shook his head slightly, but said nothing. “You need a weapon,” said Jeritza softly as he looked her over.

Mercedes held up her sad blood stained pink mittens that hadn’t faired well in the Sealed Forest. “I have two,” she said with a smile. She was about to jokingly call her hands lefty and righty when Jeritza opened the door to the armory and motioned for her to follow. Mercedes’ smile faded as she trailed after him wondering what he expected her to wield.

 _Please not a scythe,_ thought Mercedes as she watched him perusing the options. Eventually Jeritza plucked a training bow and a quiver from the wall, “How are your archery skills?”

Mercedes grimaced with discomfort at the idea of shooting an arrow at someone she knew. She had tried to take archery as an elective but Hanneman had kept her in Faith and Reason, “I have the theory down.”

Jeritza sighed as he started to put fix quiver around her hips, “Then we will have to practice.”

“Today, or,” began Mercedes uncertainly.

“We can hit some targets in the woods,” offered Jeritza as he did a test pull on the bow before passing it to her to carry.

“Aren’t we supposed to be patrolling?”

Jeritza shrugged with indifference, “Training you to protect yourself is just as important to me as hunting down the prince.”

That brought her a palpable sense of relief. “You were always so good with your bow growing up, I know you’ll be a great teacher.”

Jeritza neither confirmed nor denied this as he lead the way from the armory towards the path that would lead them to the outer walls of the monastery. Another pair of early risers were approaching them heading in the opposite direction. Ferdinand looked like he’d slept incredibly and was swinging a training lance with glee as Hubert, who looked like he probably had stayed up reading long after Mercedes left his office, was trudging along dragging his training lance. She noticed how his posture pepped up as he realized who was approaching. It appeared her revealing the details of her affair had not diminished the crush he was still clearly nursing. It was freeing to have finally told someone about it, even if Hubert was the last person she expected to open up to about it. 

“Ah, good morning Mercedes and Jeritza,” said Ferdinand with enthusiasm. “I wish you an uneventful patrol.”

Mercedes shared that sentiment. “And where are you off to?” asked Mercedes as she fidgeted with her bow.

Ferdinand clapped Hubert on the shoulder, “I received a special assignment straight from the Emperor, I must train Hubert in how to use his new weapon, but first we must get him strong enough to lift it.”

Hubert’s eyes were shut and his facial expression suggested he was exercising extreme restraint in not throttling Ferdinand. Mercedes gave him an encouraging smile when his eyes finally opened. She held up her bow, “Looks like we’re both learning new skills.”

“Be safe,” said Hubert softly as he looked at her. There was a small flicker of tenderness in his expression that made her heart unexpectedly skip a beat before the look was buried away. Hubert’s attention shifted to Jeritza, “Please remember your objective is to take any prisoners _alive_.”

Jeritza’s lip curled as he surveyed Hubert, “A death in a battle is a far preferable end to being captured by the masters of this army.”

There was a tense silence in the foursome until Ferdinand cleared his throat, “Prince Dimitri and the other Faergheans may be long gone. This is a harsh place to winter, they have probably retreated somewhere safe to wait for spring.” Ferdinand pointed to the bright overcast sky above them, “I bet you there is a blizzard coming this evening or next.”

“Perhaps they have fled, but perhaps I shall find out Blaiddyd’s true strength,” suggested Jeritza in his drawn out way. Jeritza looked at the mountains, and Mercedes’ blood ran cold as she watch his eyes focusing roughly in the direction of her friends.

“Bring them in alive, and as unharmed as possible,” reiterated Hubert with mild annoyance as the pairs parted to go their separate ways.

Mercedes walked with her brother and waited until they were out of earshot to softly add, “I would appreciate it if you did not kill my friends.”

Jeritza regarded her in silence for a few steps before his expression darkened, “There are some fates worse than death. It would be best if they were not taken prisoner.”

“Does that mean you might let them escape?” It was too much to hope for and yet the words slipped from her all the same.

Jeritza shook his head, “I have my orders.”

Mercedes felt numb as she considered what must have happened to Emile to make him consider death a preferable alternative to being taken prisoner by Lord Arundel. “You know you can always talk to me, about anything,” said Mercedes as they reached the outer wall and passed beneath its gates. As they passed through the trees of the forest north of the monastery Mercedes let out a sigh, “I’m just trying to understand you.”

Jertiza ignored this. Instead he began to hum as they found a clearing, “We’ll practice with your bow here. If the prince should cross our paths so be it, and if not, we shall save the hunting for a better day. Von Aegir was right, there is a blizzard coming, and only a fool would venture out in such conditions. We will stay close to the monastery, for now.” While she was still concerned about her brother’s plans for Dimitri, she was at least comforted in knowing he was not hellbent on hunting the prince down.

It was strange having him instruct her. He kept adjusting her stance until she had it perfect. Mercedes could not help but admire how naturally it suited him, “Did you like teaching?” Mercedes let the bow string go and yelped as it snapped painfully against her outstretched elbow. Her arrow didn’t even land close to where she was aiming.

“If you held it like I told you, that would not have happened,” said Jeritza, though not unkindly. He paused and shrugged at her original query, “And yes, I suppose I did enjoy teaching. It was a cover for my real purpose here, but it was not an unpleasant way to spend my time.”

Mercedes rubbed her arm where she was sure she’d have a bruise. Her hands were cold because her soft woolen mittens didn’t give her a good enough hold on the arrows or the bow, and she had the beginnings of blisters on her fingers. However despite the little aches and pains, being out here spending time with her brother shaped up to be the finest morning she’d experienced since the start of the war.

***

Only a fool would venture out in such conditions, and his name was Felix Hugo Fraldarius. The blizzard had started in the early afternoon, and showed no signs of stopping. Felix was internally cursing with each freezing step as he looked for the notched trees in the white out conditions. He had a big bag of rations on his back that he hoped would act as a peace offering if he ever managed to find Ingrid, Dedue, and Dimitri out in this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good(?) news, I have plotted out the rest of part 1 (yes, there are multiple parts) and anticipate Byleth wakes up in chapter 35! So mind the tags as minor character death(s) are coming, soon. I fondly remember writing a complete story in <14k words when I started writing fanfic almost a year ago, and now here I am. This story honestly started as just a light shippy fic until *someone* made a comment that spurred me into plot city and I will let you know who you are when the appropriate moment comes. That propriety pillow ain't sitting between Hubert and Mercedes on that couch for long >:)
> 
> But first, some more lore.


	30. Double Agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix passes on a warning to his friends, Hubert and Mercedes learn what was in the Abyss chasm, and Claude surprises the Alliance Round Table with a few things.

Felix only had a little further to go. He could just barely make out the light coming from the cave, and sought it like a moth to a flame. He was used to cold but this blizzard was just downright unpleasant as wet snow kept seeking out any exposed skin and clinging to his clothes. As reluctant as he was to see Ingrid, Dimitri, and Dedue, he could not stay out here a moment longer.

As Felix hauled himself into the mouth of the cave he was met with the tip of a relic. “Get that out of my face,” said Felix as he tried to get his hat and scarf off so they could see who he was. He had a sinking realization that recognition might make Ingrid want to stab him even more.

From her pinched facial expression he couldn’t tell if Ingrid wanted to punch him or hug him, and suspected it might be both. Dedue looked like he was recovering from a mild heart attack at the surprise of a cold wet mass flinging itself into their shelter. Dimitri was barely visible from the back of the cave and showed no signs of coming to investigate their visitor.

“How, what, why are you here?” demanded Ingrid. She was still holding her weapon in an attack stance.

Felix sloughed off his pack, “I brought you food, supplies. I figured you needed it but it if you don’t—”

“We will accept this,” said Dedue as he helped Felix unpacking the various things he’d stolen from the pantry. In a stiff voice he added a small, “Thank you.” It was the most forced thing Felix had ever heard out of the loyal retainer.

“Did Mercedes tell you where we were?” Ingrid finally let Luin down. She looked furious.

“She filled me in, yeah,” said Felix. “And good thing too, what are you even eating out here? Weeds?”

Ingrid and Dedue said nothing as they worked to organize the food. Ingrid was still shooting Felix judgmental looks, “So are you here to apologize?”

Felix cringed at the question. The idea of talking to Dimitri, of apologizing for causing him to lose his eye, had almost made Felix turn back too many times to count. “I’m here to make sure you don’t starve. Mercedes gave me some vulneraries too, so don’t break them.”

Ingrid was never one to mince words. “So, what’s the deal with you joining the emp—,” her eyes darted to Dimitri as she cut her self off from saying _Empire_. “Why’d you go over to their side?”

Saying he was angry and it was an impulsive choice made him look like an absolute asshole so Felix just glared, “It’s complicated.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. She poked him in the side like when they were younger, “Why are you really here? What couldn’t wait for after the blizzard since I take it you’re not here to ask for forgiveness.”

She knew him far too well. “I’m here to pass on a warning,” said Felix quietly with a glance back towards Dimitri. Dimitri was facing the back of the cave, presumably staring at shadows from the campfire dancing on the wall. “Jeritza is the person on the hunt for you.”

“Mercedes already told us that,” said Ingrid.

“If he captures you you’ll be turned over to dark mages,” said Felix. “The Regent, Lord Arundel, has a whole mess of them working for him. He said something about using crested blood to make crest stones.”

Dedue and Ingrid both gave him a bewildered look at the information. He knew how crazy it sounded. The cave was silent save for the howling wind from the storm still raging. Felix sighed, “I know it sounds unbelievable but I saw the stones myself. There was an accident a few days ago in the Sealed Forest, a bunch of dark mages got turned into demonic beasts by their own tools.”

“That’s deplorable,” whispered Dedue.

Felix nodded, “The Regent suspected sabotage, he thinks it was you.”

“We haven’t been anywhere near Garreg Mach,” said Ingrid.

“I know,” said Felix quietly. The next part was pure speculation, “Edel—”

Ingrid smacked him in the arm and put a finger to her lips. Felix hated having to censor himself at the risk of setting off Dimitri, which he assumed was why she was tiptoeing on eggshells. Felix started again, “ _Horn head_ and her creepy shadow shut that theory down real quick, too quick if you ask me.”

“What are you implying?” asked Dedue.

“I think there’s a bit of a power struggle going on, I think they might have broken the stones themselves to undermine Arundel. Then he wanted me for my blood and horn head refused, at which point he decided he’d take any prisoners they captured.” Felix looked in the direction of Garreg Mach, wondering for a moment if it was even safe for him to go back. “You can tell everyone is on edge over Arundel being around, and they’ve been doing a lot of weird stuff to avoid him interacting with anyone.”

The floor of Felix’s stomach plummeted as he heard Dimitri shifting and getting up. The prince walked towards the fire. He regarded Felix with a wary sort of recognition with his single remaining eye, and Felix resisted his impulse to draw his weapon. Felix was torn between the desire to apologize, and wanting his own apology from the prince for how downhill things had gone in the holy mausoleum and the battles that followed. Dimitri had tried to kill him. However, for now they were not fighting and so Felix voiced none of his thoughts.

Dimitri stopped staring at Felix and turned his attention towards the mouth of the cave. “So my Uncle is at Garreg Mach,” whispered Dimitri as he stared at the monastery’s lights in the distance. “What a brilliant family reunion.”

“Your _uncle_?” Felix and Ingrid nearly spoke in unison.

Dimitri barely reacted to their confusion. His voice was calm but veering cold and detatched, “My step-mother, Patricia as we knew her, changed her name when she came to Faerghus. She was Anselma Arundel, the ex-consort of the Emperor of Adrestia.”

Felix remembered Patricia well, his mother had been her personal guard. She was friendly, with blond hair and violet eyes, though he also recalled her always seeming sad, “Who knew about this?”

“My father and Cornelia. She told me herself, though I do not believe I was supposed to know,” muttered Dimitri. He exhaled through his nose with a hint of dismay, “My father and I traveled to the Arundel lands several times, on the western border of Faerghus. My uncle would host us in secret every summer from the time I was eight until eleven. The princess and I would play games while the adults negotiated.”

“Negotiated what?” asked Ingrid.

“A marriage,” said Dimitri in a half-hiss. “Patricia tried to take her daughter with her when she fled that wretched place. She was caught and exiled. However, my uncle succeeded in saving that woman after the Insurrection. He wanted to arrange a marriage so that if the empire attempted to reclaim her it would be akin to kidnapping a princess, a future queen.” There was a touch of anger to his voice as he eked out ‘that woman’. “My father was reluctant to take on the burden of protecting a foreigner. He did not wish to waste Faerghean lives on Adrestian in-fighting.”

“Please tell me Edelgard is not the dagger girl,” said Felix. It was Sylvain’s favorite childhood story to tell. Dimitri had liked a girl and thought it romantic to give her a knife.

Dimitri looked up at the ceiling of the cave and let out a small noise of discontent from deep in his throat, “Sylvain’s secondhand retelling is barely the truth. In reality, my father finally agreed to the match after years of debate because I asked him to. In my mind, if I married her it meant she would be back with her mother and I could protect her. I thought I could fix things.” His hands curled into fists, “I was given a choice of ceremonial objects to give her, the dagger seemed to fit her best. I picked it to show her that I understood her.”

Felix didn’t argue; he’d take a dagger over dolls or jewelry. He recalled that Glenn had agonized over what to pick for Ingrid, a stranger to him then, and had settled on a ring to be safe. In hindsight a weapon would have been good for her too. Felix cleared his throat, “So you were betrothed then. Formally.”

Dimitri shook his head, “The offer was not accepted. That was the last time I saw her before coming to Garreg Mach. She still had the dagger but refused to acknowledge what it had meant, before everything that happened.” Dimitri’s words trailed off. He began to pace and Felix reflexively wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword. “She was given a choice, be a powerless queen who ran, or an Emperor who took back her crown,” said Dimitri with a growing sense of rage in his words. “She chose power, and did not care who she cut down to get it.”

Dimitri continued to circle the group, “You said Lord Arundel has dark mages working for him?” Dimitri came to an abrupt stop and stared at Dedue, “Indulge me friend, will you please describe what you witnessed on the day our families were taken from us?”

Dedue’s mouth moved in shock but the words were slow to come out. Finally he cleared his throat and looked at Felix and Ingrid, “Mages. Veiled gremories, masked dark bishops, and soldiers bearing no banners. They cut down the royal procession and then into the crowd of people that had gathered to watch the parade.”

Dimitri nodded, “My mother begged me not to leave her carriage. However, I could not stay hidden while the mortal screams echoed from outside. That was the last I saw of Patricia. Hers was the only body not recovered from our entourage.” He focused on Felix, “Patricia ordered your mother to abandon her post and protect me. She pulled me into the spot we hid in until soldiers from Faerghus arrived.”

Dedue closed his eyes, “The city burned that night. I survived by pretending to be dead beneath the body of my father. I watched as the mages murdered and the swordsmen cut people down. They piled the ones they took into carts. They drained blood from the dead.”

Felix remembered how awful and colorless Glenn looked when his body returned to Fhirdiad. His brother had probably been turned into crest stones. Felix felt his throat burning with unwelcome tears. Ingrid was outright crying as she listened.

“Dark mages in Duscar, dark mages in the western church, dark mages under the command of that woman, it is all connected,” said Dimitri with a simmering anger building up to a boil in his tone. “With my own eyes I saw the Flame Emperor conferencing with the people who killed Jeralt. She is behind it all, and even if it kills me I will see her dead for all of this.”

Felix believed him. He also knew in his heart that such a death would amount to nothing. One man, even one so strong, could not take on an entire army. There were four of them, five if Mercedes joined, and well over four hundred soldiers presently situated at Garreg Mach. They would be run through, they needed to gather an army in Faerghus and march.

There was silence in the cave as everyone’s eyes settled on Garreg Mach. Felix looked at the piling snow and realized he was probably sleeping here tonight. Trying to navigate back would be a one way ticket to hypothermia. It meant a whole night sleeping in the same cave as the boar, but it also meant a few hours to try to convince them how crazy their plan to stay was, “Well, she’s not totally in charge. She definitely answers to your uncle, and that bastard is going to turn us all into crest stones if he has his way.” He wanted to scream at them to leave now while they could.

“If you’re with us, stay with us. We’re stronger together,” said Ingrid.

Felix gestured to the cave, “Here, seriously?” He pointed at Dimitri, “Hey, prince of Faerghus, this is the dumbest plan you have ever come up with.”

Dimitri said nothing and instead got up to retreat deeper into the cave. Dedue was staring at Felix like he wanted nothing more than to calmly toss him over a cliff. Ingrid punched him in the arm to convey her anger. Felix grunted as he rubbed the spot, “I’m serious. This is idiotic. You know the Death Knight is out looking for you.”

“Well then we’ll have to rename him the dead knight,” said Ingrid darkly.

Felix rolled his eyes, “This is Jertiza, our combat professor. He knows all your moves. You’re predictable because you always fight like a good little knight. I actively try to be _unpredictable_ and he still trounces me on the training grounds. You will lose if you face him.”

“He is still just one man,” said Dedue. “There are three of us.”

“He’s nearly as tall as you are, and unlike you he has a crest and now a relic,” spat Felix. “First, he’ll kill you. Then he’ll capture Dimitri and Ingrid and turn them over to be used.” Felix stood up, he was not staying here tonight, these people were mad. “I don’t know how to convince you that this is not a good strategy. I’m not dying because someone,” he practically shouted that part at Dimitri, “Won’t wise up and go ask for help. You don’t deserve to be king, not because you’re too young, but because you’re not thinking of anyone else.”

“How dare you.” It wasn’t a shout, but a dripping murmur from the back of the cave. “I can only think of others, I can only think of the dead at my feet—”

“Forget the dead! They’re gone, nothing you can do will matter for them,” said Felix. He felt like pulling out his hair, “My brother? Dead. I can do shit to help him.” He pointed at Ingrid, “You, you’re not dead.” He turned his finger towards Dedue, “You, still breathing.” He finally trained his eyes on Dimitri, “And you, you survived. Do something with that second chance you were given. Make your life actually matter instead of dying to further the Empire’s cause.” Felix wanted to draw his sword but he stopped himself.

So much for apologizing. Felix forced his hands down to his sides, “You are our rightful king. Go home and raise an army, you don’t have to do everything alone. If you try to take on the Emperor on your own, you’re going to fail and your blood will only strengthen her.” He looked at the snow and haphazardly pulled back on his sopping wet hat and scarf, “I’m out of here.”

“Wait, wait!” Ingrid was following after him into the storm. She caught up and grabbed him by the arm, “Felix, I’m serious, stay with us even if it's just for now. Go back when it’s safe, don’t risk freezing to death.”

He already had snow clinging in his hair, on his eyebrows, and freezing off his nose. Felix growled at the direction of the cave, “Do you really think you can get through to him?”

“I can’t if I stop trying,” said Ingrid as she started dragging him back to the cave. This was going to be a long night.

***

Mercedes’ days began with patrolling about in the snow with her brother while learning to use her bow, and ended reading for a few hours every evening with Hubert. They mostly sat in a comfortable silence, only interrupting to share particularly interesting passages. Mercedes liked to jump around between books, while Hubert was meticulously reading from cover to cover in chronological order. Seteth’s office had a set of sliding chalk boards, and they’d begun to accumulate their most pertinent observations and beginning to map out how things were connected.

Each evening Mercedes chose a different hot beverage. Her tea blend choices so far had been met with a few polite sips. Tonight she was going to throw Hubert a surprise with hot cocoa. She’d even made it a little bitter for him.

Mercedes looked at the stacks of read and unread books, "I'm impressed by your progress, you've been devoting a great deal of time to this." 

His hand gestured to the window, “With all that snow we’re not getting messengers in or out. There’s nothing to do but read and train right now.” His mouth twitched as if he were trying his best not to frown, “I dislike the isolation of winter. Anything could be happening and we might not know for weeks.”

“At least we’ll be proficient with our respective weapons by the time the snow melts,” said Mercedes as she massaged one her many blisters. Her brother had gotten her to the point where she was hitting targets, though not with much speed.

“Here, allow me,” offered Hubert as he held out his hands. Mercedes reached out and slowly extended her hands over his. As his fingers barely brushed hers, his weak heal spell washed over her taut blisters and helped to ease them away. “I know it’s not much,” said Hubert as his hands retreated.

“Every little bit helps. And what about your hands?” asked Mercedes as she looked over the job he’d done. He was doing a decent job at Heal, though there was plenty of room for improvement.

“Oh, I will be fine,” said Hubert as he moved an especially big book. He winced as he did it and Mercedes could not help but notice the way his shoulders tensed.

“Are you sure you don’t want a little reprieve from your aches?” asked Mercedes as she leaned against the pillow between them. “I know Ferdinand can get carried away by his enthusiasm sometimes.”

Hubert rolled his eyes. “Ferdinand arrives at the training ground and completes his own circuit before we even meet. It’s appalling how much time he spends there.”

Mercedes smiled as she imagined Ferdinand not even breaking a sweat while Hubert surely toiled. “I’ve been told my healing massage is top notch. I used to do it for Ingrid and Sylvain back in school.”

“A massage? I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” said Hubert as he began to shuffle through the leather bound journals he’d been focusing on.

“Oh don’t be so prudish, it’s just something I do for my friends,” said Mercedes as she looked for her own book to read.

Hubert stared at her with a grim expression, “Do you consider us friends?”

Mercedes sat up straight as she considered it. There was no kind way to soften it, “No.” She watched him fix his eyes on his books as a small flush of scarlet appeared around his shirt collar.

“Do you consider me your enemy?” Hubert’s voice was extremely low.

“I don’t think that’s quite right either,” said Mercedes. She put a hand on his shoulder and felt him recoil from her touch. “Come on, turn around, you’re making me hurt just looking at you.” She twisted him around on the couch as set her hands on his back. She could feel every drop of tension held within his muscles as she started to knead at the knots, “We’re more than acquaintances.” Mercedes gave a look at the deepest level of the sliding chalk boards they wrote their most important thoughts on and then hid away. “How about co-conspirators?”

His head craned to get a look at her as she started to imbue his back with magic. “Co-conspirators, I suppose it has a certain ring to it,” said Hubert. “Meeting in secret, investigating hidden histories.”

Mercedes hummed as she worked, “If you were willing to trust me, I think I could be more helpful.” She found a particularly tight spot and began to rub at it.

“I trust you,” said Hubert, though she could hear his reluctance.

He was so full of it. “No, I don’t think you do. Maybe you trust me to heal people, you even trust me on patrol, but you control the books I read, and I have a feeling you read over them yourself after I’m gone from the night. I know you sleep on this couch.” It smelled faintly of him.

“I do, on occasion, sleep in my office. I don’t wish for you to read my grandfather’s journals because they are extremely private to my family. You may choose other books though if you aren’t interested in what I’m picking.” She could tell from his soft grunts that it was a good sort of pain he was feeling from her massage, “As far as my level of trust in you, please, indulge me. If you were given the freedom to walk away now, to go home, would you take it?”

Mercedes considered her answer carefully. “If my brother would set down his scythe and come with me, I’d be gone in a heartbeat.” She increased the pressure she was using, “However he does not seem likely to do that. I don’t know what the Emperor did for him, but it’s clear where his loyalties lie. So I remain.” She eased up and finished with her magic before returning her hands to her lap, “Now your hands please.”

Hubert turned and stared at her as if trying to read her mind. Mercedes sighed and took his hand to remove the glove, revealing large blisters around his thumb where he’d been grasping the training lance. Her finger ran along a line of scar tissue knowing that he’d gotten the lines from killing. He had no qualms about doing it in a way that would permanently disfigure him. He could hide it to a point, but it was almost like a tick mark on his skin for every soul claimed. His words about disliking sending others to spill blood on his behalf echoed in her mind. It was like he wanted to bear the stain.

Mercedes had killed people in battle too but all her kills were just in her heart and not forced upon her skin for anyone to see. She let her magic permeate into his flesh and help to ease the sting she was sure he was feeling. These were the same hands that touched her gently in the infirmary. She found her mind circling back to that night over and over when it wasn’t busy with other thoughts. The were the same hands that offered up heal spells and resisted them in return. “I understand I haven’t given you many reasons to trust me, but I do wish to understand what happened to Emile and I think working with you will get me closer to the truth than trying to force it out of him.” She took his other hand and began to heal it too, “Plus I think you need to learn to accept help and not try to do everything yourself.”

Mercedes looked up and realized just how close their faces were. As their eyes locked Mercedes was caught off guard by the rush of blood she felt rising to her cheeks at the way he was looking at her. Desire overrun with trepidation. A mirror for the look she realized she was giving back. She gave his hand a tiny squeeze. That seemed to drive him back in a sudden shock of realization that he’d crossed the invisible wall they’d erected between themselves. Mercedes was about to speak when a tiny tap pinged from the window.

Hubert frowned as he got up and looked at the darkened glass. Another stone ticked off the pane. He opened the window and cool rush of winter air streamed into the room. Driven by her curiosity Mercedes got up to look out with him.

A whistle that sounded nearly like birdsong wafted up to them. Yuri Leclerc jerked his head towards the officer’s academy classrooms before slinking into a shadow. “I can only imagine whatever he wants is not good,” hissed Hubert as he shut the window.

Mercedes began to put on her coat when Hubert stopped her, “Are you heading out?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Mercedes. She pulled on her blood stained mittens, “Co-conspirators remember? You can trust me, please stop trying to send me away.”

Hubert nodded and stopped attempting to deter her. He pulled on his black coat and the red scarf he’d used to wear in school. Mercedes was reminded of walking back from her double date with Felix, Annie, and Sylvain on the last day she’d seen Hubert before the war was declared. Hubert broke through her idle little memory with a gesture to the door, “Shall we go find out what the lord of the Abyss wants now?”

It was a short walk to meet Yuri, who had situated himself in the old Golden Deer homeroom. “We have a slight problem.”

Hubert rubbed his face, “And that would be?”

Yuri licked his lips slowly, “Do you recall telling me to take care of the Chalice of Beginnings?”

Hubert shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Mercedes swore she saw his lips silently forming numbers, one, two, three, before he finally spoke in a razor thin voice, “Did you throw it down into the chasm?”

“That is the ideal spot to dump stuff, I imagine there are centuries worth of corpses down there,” said Yuri. He sounded nonchalant but Mercedes could see how the corners of his eyes twitched. He was worried.

“Does the Regent appear to be close to recovering it, is that why you’ve come now?”

“He found it this afternoon,” said Yuri. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.

Mercedes watched Hubert’s hands forming fists only to straighten out his fingers over and over, “Is there anything else you have to add?”

“His people were moving something from the coliseum, I want to know what they took,” said Yuri. “So you’re going to come with me and investigate.”

“What? Why didn’t you just go yourself, don’t you have a gang to do this sort of thing?” asked Hubert. Mercedes could scarcely remember the last time he’d sounded this irritated.

Yuri scoffed, “I’m not going in there alone, I heard it’s haunted.”

Hubert looked about to burst a blood vessel in his forehead as Mercedes interrupted, “Oh, I’d love to explore there. One of my dreams is seeing a ghost.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Yuri as he hopped down from the desk.

“It’s incredibly dangerous,” said Hubert.

“That’s why we’ll have to be very careful,” said Mercedes with an encouraging smile as she internally buzzed with the idea of actually seeing a spirit. Mercedes still believed in what she couldn’t see, but it would still be extremely exciting to glimpse some proof.

The Abyss was startlingly silent. All the market stalls were emptied or torn down, and there were no children were running in the street. It felt like a true tomb and Mercedes wondered if they were the only people in the underground this evening. “With the mages gone at least the people who don’t want to live on the surface can return to their homes,” said Mercedes as they weaved through pitch black streets with only a single torch to light their way.

“Some will, some won’t,” said Yuri in a non-committal way. “Some are already long gone.”

As they passed the bridge towards the coliseum there were bodies beneath shrouds. Apparently the job of pulling up the chalice had left more than a couple mages dead. Mercedes quietly made the sign of the Goddess’ peace over her heart for their souls as she passed by.

“So what do you think they took? The lower levels weren’t very exciting,” said Hubert as he shivered. The fighting arena felt big, though Mercedes couldn’t see anything beyond the small radius of light surrounding them. It was freezing and the sounds of their voices seemed to echo into the total darkness. Her heart was beginning to pick up speed with the anticipation of encountering something here.

“I can’t say I ever came in here before, the ghosts were well known for their bloodthirsty behavior,” said Yuri with a flippant air.

“Thank you for the warning,” said Hubert with a note of bitterness.

“Hey you lived,” said Yuri as he stopped walking.

Hubert gestured ahead of them in a mocking way, “What, are you afraid of the ghosts?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” sneered Yuri though his feet were firmly planted in place.

Mercedes sighed and plucked the torch from Yuri’s hands to lead the way herself. “This is exciting. So do we have to summon them, or will they just show up?” She could feel the stinging tension of anticipation in her chest. She wondered if they would only see one of the Elites or all ten at once.

“We’re not summoning anything,” said Hubert as he took a few long strides to catch up to her, with Yuri just behind him.

She slowed as she reached the edge of a great big pit with spikes in it. It looked like a horrible place to fall into. Mercedes sighed and continued to circle the perimeter as she looked for the promised graveyard. It took her a moment to realize Hubert was not following. He’d lit up his own small flame and was staring down into the pit.

Mercedes cocked her head at his expression, “What is it?”

“He took the bones,” said Hubert as all the color drained from his face. “He took the bones because of course he did. _Bones make blood._ How could I have been so blind?”

“I’m sorry who took what bones?”

Hubert gestured to the pit, “This is where the bones of the ten elites were, and a whole mess of other skeletons. Arundel took them because there’s probably power in them. He took the bones, he has chalice, and I can only guess what he plans to do with them.” There was a growing sense of desperation in his voice that managed to unsettle her as much as the thought of encountering a specter.

“The chalice doesn’t work,” said Yuri, though he looked far from calm. “It’ll backfire, plus he doesn’t have the blood to power it.”

“He doesn’t have the blood _yet_ ,” whispered Hubert. His gaze snapped to the other man, “How long before he gathers up the four of you and drains you dry?”

“Hubert,” said Mercedes with a stern warning tone. “This is no one’s fault. Now, catch me up, I take it there are no ghosts to be had down here,” she buried her disappointment at this fact, “But it seems like the chalice needs some blood? How do we stop twisted from getting that?”

“Twisted?” asked Hubert in confusion as she reached them.

“The things which slither in the dark, twisted,” said Mercedes as if it were obvious. “I figured it’s a neat little abbreviation instead of a jumble of words that don’t sit well on the tongue.” Hubert just began to massage his face in response.

“Balthus is in the Alliance, Hapi and Constance are up in Fhirdiad last I heard, they should stay far away,” said Yuri.

“Constance, Constance von Nuvelle by any chance?” asked Mercedes. She had not seen Constance in years but she could practically hear the girl’s _oh ho ho_ laugh in her ears.

“You know Coco?” asked Yuri. His face set into a suspicious glare.

“Oh, she was engaged to my brother at one time,” said Mercedes as she recalled her childhood at the kinds of alliances the Bartels had attempted to make. “But that was long in the past. If she’s in Fhirdiad she’s probably safe, right?”

Hubert began to pace. “For now. Is she one to keep a low profile?”

Mercedes and Yuri exchanged a quick glance because Constance von Nuvelle was anything but covert. Mercedes cleared her throat, “Perhaps we should get in touch with her somehow to convey the severity of the situation?”

Hubert looked like he wanted nothing more than to launch himself into the spiked pit, “There’s no means to send a message through these snows. That might be too our advantage though, it will slow Arundel’s progress, especially if he is not aware of their locations yet. He may not even know what components he needs.”

“As much as I am truly loathe to agree with you, I think the further apart we all are the better,” said Yuri. “And you’re wrong about messages, if someone is determined enough, secrets can always get in and out.”

Hubert’s demeanor grew very cold, “Are you implying we have a spy within our ranks?”

Yuri shrugged, “I just know from my experiences here that information always finds cracks to move through.” He paused and looked between Mercedes and Hubert for a few moments. “I appreciate what you’ve done for the people here. The church gave us this place like sweeping a mess under a rug and we were grateful for the scraps.” His eyes focused in on Mercedes, “You’ve been working to give us a real home, a safe one.” With that, Yuri’s gaze took a sharp turn towards Hubert, “And for that, I’m willing to keep an eye and an ear out for anything interesting.”

***

While Annette was reluctant to venture further from Garreg Mach, the trip to Derdriu did not disappoint. “Look at this place,” said Annie, her eyes wide and marveling, as she and Sylvain rode into the Aquatic Capital behind Judith and Claude. Nader had taken the wyverns in the night for discretion; they were waiting for the meeting to reveal Claude’s Almyran connection. Claude was planning to formally assume his grandfather’s seat at the what was sure to be a lively meeting of the Alliance’s lords.

The Alliance was run in round tables. Prior to the war, the five seats were occupied by Riegan, Gloucester, Ordelia, Goneril, and Edmund. Now two of those seats sat empty with Gloucester and Ordelia pledged to the Empire. The meeting room was small yet well decorated and reminded Annette of the royal palace in Fhirdiad. Claude’s grandfather Oswald looked especially ill, but was still there standing proudly by his grandson. Annette took a deep breath as she and Sylvain patiently awaited their introduction to the small council. These were supposed to be closed meetings for just the five, but given the circumstances the small room was feeling crowded even though there were only a few extra people inside.

“Hey Marianne, great to see you,” said Sylvain with an extra ounce of warmth in his voice as he greeted the shy former golden deer student.

Annie winced as Marianne mumbled a hello and kept her eyes on the ground. Her father, the Margrave Edmund, was apparently a bit of an upstart in the Alliance. He was tall and thin with the most piercing green eyes Annette had ever seen. His reddish hair was graying, and the family resemblance was very low. “Your must take after your mother,” said Annette as she looked again at the severe looking man at the round table.

“Oh, no, the Margrave adopted me,” said Marianne in her delicate soft voice. She glanced back at him and looked a little despondent to Annette’s eyes, “He believes that I have great potential, that’s why he sent me to Garreg Mach. I assume I have only disappointed him.”

Sylvain and Annette exchanged glances before Sylvain shook his head, “No! Who could be disappointed with you? He’s probably just stressed out by the war.” The Margrave did not look all that stressed to Annette; he looked like he had bigger plans than could be contained within this tiny room. Oswald von Riegan began clacking his cane upon the marble floor to bring the room to attention.

“I would like to take this moment to remember my son, Godfrey, gone too soon, and to commend my grandson, _Khalid_ , for stepping up to take his uncle’s place as my heir,” said Oswald. There were soft murmurs around the name used, Khalid, and its distinctive Almyran roots. Oswald’s big bushy eyebrows furrowed as he looked out at the whisperers, “I may be old but I am not yet completely deaf. Show some respect.” He stared out, his eyes ripe with fight, “I am officially transferring the title of Duke, the responsibilities therein, to Khalid von Riegan.”

There was a strange silence as looks were exchanged until the Margrave Edmund began clapping. This spurred the rest of the room into an awkward applause. Holst Goneril clapped especially loudly, though it might have just been because he had extremely large hands. Annette was vaguely aware that the Gonerils held the border between Almyra and the Alliance, and Holst looked like he had seen his share of combat.

“Thank you grandfather,” said Claude, “And now that the news is out, I would like to formally request to be addressed by my Almyran name. Many of you remember my mother, Tiana, and have opinions on my father, King Idris of Almyra, but Khalid is the name they gave me and so I proudly bear it.” He paused and studied the lords and ladies present for a reaction. “I want to put to rest any fears that Leicester will be merged with our neighbors to the east. However, I will be calling on my connections to aid in our war effort.” His voice took a dangerous, cold turn, “And if anyone has an issue with that, the door is there.” Khalid pointed, but no one moved.

Khalid gestured to the five magnificent chairs around the small round table for Duke Goneril and Margrave Edmund to sit. Holst Goneril, flanked by his sister Hilda and a large burly man, was still staring at Khalid as if he’d been totally surprised by the news _Claude_ was Almyran. Yet he took his seat in silence. Khalid looked satisfied with that and continued, his voice now much more affable, “Today is a very special round table meeting. As my first act as Duke, and acting leader of the Alliance, I motion to have Count Ordelia’s seat filled by Judith von Daphnel, are there any objections?”

Judith took her seat without meeting any protest. Holst tapped his cup upon the table, which Annie discerned was how each member requested the floor to speak. Holst stood and gave a respectful nod towards Khalid and Oswald, “I have no objections to Lady von Daphnel rejoining this table, but I ask that we consult on the replacement for Count Gloucester.”

A small smile turned up Khalid’s lips, “I expected as much. I do have a nomination, and I would appreciate if you heard him out.” Khalid gestured to a side door to the meeting chamber, which was promptly opened. There were more whispers as a hooded figure stepped forward and revealed himself.

Annie had been expecting Nader, she got Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.


	31. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorenz reveals his suspicions about the empire. Hubert and Mercedes slowly get reacquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thar be smut in this here chapter (at the end)
> 
> I know some people skip those scenes (or skip to them I guess haha) so I will put in the end author's notes if there is ever a spell that appears in a sex scene that will also appear in a battle scene (foreshadowing!).

Annette first met Lorenz years ago at the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery. She got the impression in those days that he was measuring people when he spoke with them, not in a malicious way, but in a manner that suggested he deeply understood the social fabric of their school. He was better at networking than at magic and by the end of the school year it came out that he was recruiting talent. Lorenz was quietly poaching Faerghus mages to come serve in the Alliance. He found the best, took them to tea and did his pitch. The Adrestian Empire was well known for its mages, but the Gloucester’s wanted to give them a run for their reputation. Annette was only slightly miffed that she had not been approached.

With that in mind, Annette was primed to pick apart Lorenz’s words for their real meaning as he presented himself to the small council round table. “Thank you Duke von Riegan,” said Lorenz after his introduction.

Judith looked at Khalid and then back at Lorenz with ire. She clearly hadn’t been briefed on this surprise. Holst’s eyes narrowed in on the son of the traitorous count, and Margrave Edmund had a strangely amused look on his face. Lorenz held up one hand, “I will tell you now, I have come to Derdriu at great personal risk, and any wagging tongues outside this room will lead to my ruin.” His eyes swept to each extra person present in the private session — Oswald, Marianne, Annette and Sylvain, Hilda and the beefy mystery man with her — before returning to the round table. “However, there are some things that are worth such a risk.”

Khalid gestured to his old classmate, “The floor is yours,” before taking his seat at the table.

“My father, as you all know, pledged our forces immediately to the Empire’s cause. He has long sought to increase our family’s power in this region, and I must assume promises were made behind closed doors to secure his support,” said Lorenz.

“So why are you here _now_?” Judith’s voice had gone to ice. Her lands bordered Gloucester, and her army had been the ones to prevent the push of the Empire into the Alliance.

“I have seen some things that I cannot explain away which have caused me to reconsider my family’s allegiance with the Empire,” said Lorenz plainly. “Now, before I go further, may I take a seat?”

Khalid’s eyes were focused on Holst and Judith for a moment before shaking his head, “Please keep standing. We will cast a vote to see if you may assume the final seat at the round table.”

Lorenz looked slightly annoyed but consented to continue standing. “House Ordelia joined with House Gloucester _after_ a meeting with my father. Something special must have been offered to them to turn, for everyone knows how cautious house Ordelia became following their backing of the Hryms in their failed rebellion. In fact, many would think they have every reason to hate the Empire after the backlash they endured.” Lorenz clasped his hands behind his back, “Count Ordelia has never attended a single official meeting in the Empire. Instead the house is always represented by Lysithea von Ordelia, who is exceptionally young to be burdened by all the interests of her region.”

Annette frowned. Lysithea was not that much younger than she was. She was smart and calculating, and a worthy representative. If Lorenz had no faith in Lysithea, Annette could only imagine that he felt similarly about her abilities.

“The Ordelia’s are good people,” said the muscular man beside Hilda.

Hilda smacked him in the torso and gave him a shrill whisper, “Balti, shut up.”

Lorenz cast his eyes over to the pair for their interruption before returning his gaze to the round table. “Lysithea von Ordelia is the reason I have come here today. According to official records, Lysithea was born with a minor crest of Charon. Therefore, imagine my shock to see her flash a major crest of Gloucester upon the battlefield this past summer,” said Lorenz. He seemed particularly disturbed by this. “At first, I took this as a sign of infidelity, perhaps even on my father’s part though it pained me to believe it.”

Margrave Edmund was quietly tapping his cup on the table for a chance to speak. He stood when given a nod by Khalid, “I help to collect and manage the registers of births and crests in the Alliance. I assure you, what you are saying is not possible. Lysithea von Ordelia presented with the crest of Charon when assessed shortly after her birth. It was welcomed news for the family since none of the older children, now passed, possessed one.”

Lorenz nodded towards the Margrave with respect, “I appreciate your expertise on this matter, but I know my family’s crest. I know intimately what it looks like because I carry it myself. I also know the crest of Charon, for I have seen that as well manifesting in young mistress Ordelia.”

There was a confused moment of silence in the room. Margrave Edmund was still standing, “Two crests within one person, is that really what you are suggesting?”

“Suggesting? No, I am telling you this is the truth,” said Lorenz. As unbelievable as it was, Lorenz did not show any signs of doubt. If he was sent by the Empire to undermine them Annette thought this was an outlandish way of achieving that. Annette’s mind was racing. Lysithea had been extremely cagey about her crest in school. Now it all made sense in the least sensible way. Margrave Edmund finally looked stumped as he took his seat in silence.

“Lysithea, for those of you who are unfamiliar, is a slight young woman, with stark white hair,” said Lorenz. He paused and looked at the man next to Hilda, “ _Balti_ was it? You seem familiar with the family, would you care to describe the count and countess of Ordelia?”

“Uh, it’s Balthus von Albrecht,” said the man awkwardly as if he did not want to share his name. “And yeah, I know ‘em. The count is short, brown hair, kinda receding though I guess. And oh, Countess von Ordelia, is a real nice lady. Beautiful eyes, like a rosy color, and dark hair. She’s uh, voluptuous, am I allowed to say that? I means she’s a knock out—”

Hilda looked about ready to knock him out as she cleared her throat with a not-subtle ‘ _that is enough_ ’. Lorenz looked like he’d just smelled something foul at Balthus’ word choice. Annette could hear Sylvain attempting to contain a laugh beside her.

“Lysithea resembles another young Adrestian more so than her parents,” said Lorenz calmly. “Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg is similarly small in stature, with white hair, and two crests.”

The information dropped like a Meteor spell on the room. “Are you saying you have witnessed both the crest of flames, and the crest of Seiros in the Emperor?” Margrave Edmund had abandoned waiting his turn to speak. He seemed positively unsettled.

“I have indeed. The Emperor did not deny it when I asked her, though it was plain I had overstepped a boundary by inquiring,” said Lorenz. “I was not able to get any information on how exactly she had acquired it, and Lysithea told me to mind my own business.”

Khalid cleared his throat and rested his elbows on the table, “Crests can be given, historically they were shared by the saints. So someone must have given Edelgard the crest of flames and someone must have given Lysithea a crest of Gloucester—”

“I see you have been familiarizing yourself with the doctrines of Seiros, finally,” said Lorenz in an unamused voice. He straightened up, “As those of us who were at Garreg Mach know, Byleth Eisner was the first person to bear a crest of flames in a thousand years. Byleth fell in battle, but perhaps his crest was harvested for the Emperor.”

Annette’s heart sank. None of this made sense. She had seen Byleth fall, pushed really, off a cliff. Yet perhaps he had been recovered and used in such a twisted manner. She wouldn’t put something so disgusting past the Empire. Her chest was feeling tight as Lorenz continued, “Which also means a major crest of Gloucester must have been similarly harvested for Lysithea at some point in time.” He looked at the Margrave Edmund, “Do you recall the last person known to bear a major crest of Gloucester?”

“Your father,” said the Margrave in an even voice. His eyes looked like he was watching something awful unfolding a world away. His attention turned to Judith and then to Oswald, “You two sat on this round table for years with Count Gloucester. Would you say a change ever came over him unexpectedly?”

Oswald looked startled by the direction of the question, “I was never fond of Giovanni, though I would say his ambitions grew greatly once his son was born.”

Judith spared Lorenz a look, “I would say he went from offering critiques of our plans, to outright trying to control our votes. It’s no secret he wished to lead the Alliance, even before this war.”

The Margrave seemed to be mulling over the information. Lorenz dropped his purple head in an apologetic fashion, “I understand that the actions of my father have tainted the Gloucester name. I am here in an attempt to repair my family’s honor and standing.”

“What can you offer us other than words?” asked Holst. He did not bother to hide his frown, “If you join us, you’ll be disowned. Then we just have a youth sitting at the council who brings no troops and barely any experience to the table.”

Annette watched as Lorenz and Khalid stared at each other. She wondered what sorts of plans and promises they had made with each other. Lornez nodded back at Holst, “I have brought this information to you, and I am willing to risk returning to the Empire to act as a spy. My father presently thinks I am at Fort Merceus, the Emperor believes I am home. I will make for Merceus next, and await my orders. All the while, I can pass on information about their plans and movements.”

“Where is the Emperor?” asked Khalid. Annette felt the hairs on her neck raise as she realized this was a test of her and Sylvain’s information.

Lorenz frowned as if he’d already told Khalid this, “At Garreg Mach. She has been pulling extra troops from Merceus, the army is presently split between the fort, the monastery, and at the Arundel’s border with the Kingdom.”

Annette panicked; if the Empire was gathering forces near the border with the Kingdom they might be planning to attack this spring. She hadn’t been expecting that. That was too far away to get to in time.

“Good,” said Khalid with a self satisfied smirk. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Soon, depending on how the sailing is going, Almyran raiders will hit Enbarr and then Brigid. The goal is to sack the city and destroy the Imperial navy which is occupying the archipelago. I expect troops to be sent from Merceus to answer this, at which point the raiders will abandon the capital. If the Emperor goes towards Enbarr, we’ll have to march into Empire lands to engage her. However, if she leaves Enbarr to her other troops and marches for Derdriu, we’ll meet her on our land, knowing that she’s only bringing a fraction of her forces.” Khalid nodded towards Hilda, “The Gonerils will then capture the understaffed Merceus where Lorenz will be to help to sneak them in.” Khalid stood and put his hands on his hips. He was looking more and more like a leader, “They wanted to invade us, but the Alliance is stronger than they give us credit for. We’re going to take them over instead.”

Holst and Judith clapped thought their faces were stony at the prospect of more fighting. The Margrave just looked distracted. Beside Annette, Sylvain shifted his weight around like he was internally debating something. He coughed to get Khalid’s attention, “So that’s your plan for the Empire, what are your intentions for the Kingdom?”

Khalid’s smile was big, a little too big, “Well, we’ll appreciate Duke Fraldarius’ help that’s for certain.”

“What about the troops on the western border? You can’t conquer the Empire without taking them out too,” said Sylvain.

“Let’s get the south secured before we worry about the north,” said Khalid dismissively.

Annette did not feel very at ease, but with the way the conversation was going it was clear things were transitioning the closed portion of the meeting. She found herself being ushered from the room with the likes of Hilda, Balthus, and Marianne. Lorenz stayed behind and was finally offered a chair.

***

The late night tea and book club with Hubert had become something Mercedes actually looked forward to. Stress was high over the fact that Arundel had taken the bones and the Chalice, but it was only spurring them to work harder. She could scarcely remember the last night she hadn’t spent in Hubert’s office. Mercedes was choosing her own books to read and she’d even won Hubert over on the idea that they could get others involved in collecting information, even if they didn’t share why.

“I took your recommendation and approached Ashe about reading over Seteth’s fables and the other fairy tale type stories,” said Hubert as he built up the fire in his office. It was an especially chilly night. “I think that’s been my most successful conversation with him in the last year. He actually seemed excited about it.”

“Oh good,” said Mercedes. “He loves those kinds of stories, I’m sure he’ll read them fast.” Neither she nor Hubert particularly cared for the genre.

“I felt a little silly asking for a book report from him as if we’re reopening the school,” said Hubert.

“Well, you know Ferdinand would like to start offering classes for the children of the Abyss,” said Mercedes. “I actually think seminars for soldiers would be a great idea. We all have specialties to share, I wouldn’t mind offering a reason class. I think some of your battalion would be interested.”

“Wonderful,” said Hubert with a distinctly sarcastic draw. “Don’t sign me up.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes and poured the tea for each of them. She’d seen him visiting his battalion but exclusively when she was on shift. It was painfully obvious he was just in the infirmary to try to visit with her. “Let me guess, you’d prefer private tutoring sessions?” She felt no guilt at making him look away in embarrassment at the observation. Sometimes they did practice basic spells like fireball together, although Mercedes was beginning to long for a chance to do some other types of spells. She enjoyed the faces he made when she gently ribbed him, “Perhaps in my bedroom?”

Hubert sounded like he’d taken his tea down the wrong tube at the suggestion. “How do you like it?” Mercedes asked excitedly as she took her usual seat on the couch. She had never had this cinnamon blend before but it was supposed to be spicy.

Hubert sipped it again, and delicately lowered the teacup. “I will suffer through.”

Mercedes dramatically fell back in her seat, “Hubert von Vestra I will figure out what tea you like.”

“It’s called coffee,” said Hubert dryly as he took another taste.

“Then why do you keep drinking what I’ve brought you?” challenged Mercedes as she sat up to drink her own cup with extra sugar.

“I do not wish to be rude,” said Hubert as he relaxed back into his seat. “Although I must say without any caffeine I’m afraid I’m going to be slumbering on this very couch sooner than not.” He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. It was contentment, and the realization made her heart beat a little faster. He clearly enjoyed her company and assistance even if they weren’t being physical, and that was unexpectedly endearing.

“How many nights a week do you sleep in your office?” asked Mercedes as she slid off her boots and curled up into her corner of the sofa.

Hubert declined to respond and continued to sip at his tea instead. Mercedes picked up the slightly crumpled throw pillow between them that she imagined he often rested his face against and pressed it against her nose, taking in the subtle mix of musk and coffee. Against her better judgment she was beginning to find that scent familiar, and perhaps even attractive. “You’ve definitely imprinted yourself on the pillows. This is officially no longer Seteth’s sofa.”

“Are you sniffing me out?” asked Hubert in amused disbelief.

Mercedes shrugged as she adjusted the pillow behind her so that it was no longer a barrier between them. Hubert was staring at the now empty space where the pillow had been strategically placed. Slowly his eyes traced up to meet hers. To her disappointment, he grabbed a book and pressed it towards her like a shield meant to stave her off.

“Take notes on this and I’ll um, I’ll focus on my task,” muttered Hubert as he rushed to randomly select something to read.

Mercedes sighed and looked at the title he’d forced on her, _Feast of Decadence_. She cracked the slim novel open to a random page as she studied Hubert from the corner of her vision. His leg began to bounce up and down with a nervous energy as he too stole little looks at the empty space between them. She was in a mood tonight and it was clear he was not immune to her light flirting attempts. There was something exhilarating about being wanted so badly by someone — who was normally a master of hiding every emotion — that every little look and action seemed to drive him crazy. Yet they also had a job to do so she focused on her reading.

The narrative of the book he’d passed her described an imperial wedding feast, and a risque one at that. She could see exactly why Seteth had removed it from the library. Mercedes felt heat rising in her chest as the narrator described a very titillating play depicting Emperor Wilhelm and Saint Seiros practically making love on the stage.

Mercedes decided a dramatic reading was in order. “A young man, starring as Emperor Wilhelm as he caught the saint, Seiros, and pulled her into a close embrace, suddenly beckoned me. This is quite steamy,” laughed Mercedes as she leaned into the space between them. “Oh, it’s a pity the book is too damaged to read what happened next, but it sounds like an orgy broke out in the middle of this wedding feast.”

Hubert cleared his throat, “Yes, well, it probably did. The Hresvelg emperors are well known for their polygamy, and historically there were orgies with many participants on occasion.”

Mercedes took great care with the old book as she set it aside and shifted to face Hubert. “Adrestians do carry a certain reputation, at least in Faerghus.”

“What that we’re more debauched than you chilly northerners?” He almost seemed amused at such a charge.

“More that you’re flexible and open to certain experiences,” started Mercedes as she edged slightly closer. Hubert grew perfectly still at the flow of the conversation. Mercedes loosened his book from his hands and returned it to the coffee table. Hubert immediately brought them to his lap and stared at his feet rather than look at her. Mercedes reached out to put her hand on his thigh. It was plain to see his desires were all pent up, and tonight she was ready to release them to experience the full intensity of his attraction. “I’ve heard lovers of all kinds are common.”

“They’re not that common,” his voice trailed off. “Maybe for other people, but not me.”

Perhaps he wasn’t as experienced as she had assumed. “That, that wasn’t your first time back in the infirmary was it?”

Hubert glanced at her and snorted, “No.” He left it at that without elaborating.

“Well, may I suggest an arrangement?” She let her hand trace up towards his groin and delighted in the sound of his breath hitching. “Not friends, not enemies, but co-conspirators working together, helping each other out.” She expected him to react, but Hubert was silent and unmoving. Timid was not a word fit to describe him, but it was hard to ignore his reluctance. Mercedes knew how to read a room, “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted this.”

Her hands began to retreat from him until the gentle touch of a glove upon her wrist stopped her. His eyes were searching her face for something though she wasn’t sure what. His eyes diverted to her hands as he put them back where they had been. “I do want you,” he whispered. “I want you for whatever you’ll have me for.”

Mercedes bit her lip thinking about the spells in _Bedchamber Black Magic_ , and knew they were probably a bit much to start with. “Perhaps we ought to get properly acquainted.” Surprise sex in the infirmary had been an excellent way to unwind after a terrible day, but the true fun was in the foreplay. “Shall we take things slow this time?”

“First we must discuss what this is, and what it isn’t,” said Hubert as he shifted to face her. “No euphemisms about tea and coffee, I need to understand your expectations as well as make mine clear.” His voice was all business, no lust.

She let her body cozy up to his as they got perilously close to one another. This wasn’t a negotiation she was accustomed to, “Expectations? Such as?”

“Secrecy, no one can know about this,” whispered Hubert with a cautious look to the door. “Further I assume you are just looking for physical gratification and not to be courted.”

Mercedes smiled at the joke; she couldn’t picture Hubert courting anyone. “Obviously. I would like to try some complicated things, but in time, not right away.” She knew he didn’t completely trust her yet, and the things she wanted to do would require that to be any good.

“I don’t intend to ever finish inside you, but on the chance I do, what will you do about it?” His stare was a little too intense for her comfort.

She felt a heat in her cheeks at the sheer bluntness of his words, “I suppose there are potions in the infirmary for that sort of thing. I know for a fact Manuela keeps them.”

Hubert nodded, looking relieved. “I’m not sure this needs to be said, but I’m not presently engaging in relations with anyone else, nor do I anticipate it.” He paused, “And if you are, I do not wish to know about it.”

“Is there anything else?” Mercedes was glad he shook his head no. She leaned in to kiss him and when he returned the gesture there was no longer any caution. She hadn’t properly made out in a long time, and clearly Hubert hadn’t either as they clumsily arranged their bodies. Finally Mercedes just forced Hubert down into the cushions so she could get on top of him. It was extremely cramped as he stared up at her as if waiting for directions. She pulled back and looked around and considered just how tight the furniture was, “I don’t think Seteth chose his couches with this purpose in mind.” She felt too old to be doing this in such uncomfortable conditions, “Do you want to go back to my room?”

Hubert gave a fleeting look at the research and then back at her, “Alright.” His hands gave her hips a light squeeze, “If this is to be an affair, we shouldn’t walk together. You go, I’ll follow.”

“Oh come on, who’s going to see us?” challenged Mercedes as she helped to pull him from the cushions. Campus was quiet as they sped walked towards her dorm while attempting to avoid ice patches. Mercedes barely had the door open before Hubert was urging them both inside and away from any potential witnesses. They spilled into her bed in the dark in a flurry of kisses. Mercedes giggled as she came up for air, “At least let me light my candles, I can’t see anything.”

“I prefer the dark,” said Hubert as he attempted to keep kissing her and prevent her from going anywhere.

Mercedes did not, she liked to see what she was doing, “One candle.” She slipped from the bed and lit her biggest candle, the one with three wicks, and brought the light to her nightstand. Mercedes eagerly began to undo the buttons of her shirt to reveal the stiff corset beneath.

“May I?” asked Hubert as he watched her from his seat on her bed. Mercedes let her hands fall to her sides. His fingers cautiously began to undo the laces as if he were memorizing how it would go back on her. It wasn’t an elaborate one like the ones she used to make on commission back in Fhirdiad; those were meant for court gowns. This was just a simple one that kept her her uniform looking neat. As it was pulled off everything was free to fall about as it pleased and out of her control.

Mercedes had a brief moment of insecurity welling within her as he started to part her thin layer of underclothes to look upon her for the first time exposed. She told herself it was no different than being in the sauna, but in sauna he was always far away and politely not looking at her. Now his eyes refused to leave. Mercedes swallowed as she started to pull off his gloves, “You need to catch up.”

She watched him staring as the scar tissue was exposed. The candlelight caused shadows to dance across the raised ridges. Mercedes lifted up his hand and brushed her lips over the scars before settling on a spot to kiss, “I know what I’m signing up for, you don’t have to be shy. Now, get the rest of your clothes off already.”

Hubert looked like a man with a looming deadline as he started to remove his boots and pants like his life depended upon them being off. Mercedes took a deep breath as she stripped away the last of her undergarments. She nervously undid her hair and let it hang over her breasts, though at this point she felt propriety was out the window. She hopped into bed as Hubert finished getting off his socks.

She already knew what he looked like beneath his clothes, though there was something different to seeing him up an active rather than passed out in the infirmary. He was looking better, though it appeared Ferdinand had given him plenty of new bruises in their sparring sessions. “Hubert, you really don’t look like you’re eating enough,” said Mercedes with a little ‘ _tsk_ ’ as she took in the contours of his ribs against his skin. She nibbled at her lip as she opened her legs, “Are you hungry?”

The surprised and yet pleased look on his face was worth the teasing. “Let me work my way down,” he whispered as he finally climbed into her bed. They began to navigate around each other as they tried to settle into position. He seemed unsure of what to do with her as he started to kiss her breasts. She felt cold hands creeping up her back. His fingers lingered upon the scar his Miasma spell had left her with while her own hands traced up the back of his head and the ugly reminder of their interaction immediately following the battle for Garreg Mach.

“I did this to you,” he murmured as he pulled away and let his hands continue to rub over the mark.

Mercedes arched her back as she rolled onto her stomach to give him a better look. The scar was an ugly little raised star burst upon her skin but she couldn’t see it so it was easy to ignore most of the time, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“But it did hurt, it was intended to hurt,” he whispered as his finger outlined the scar. She was guilty of the same thing having smashed a glass into the back of his skull during that miserable interaction. There was nothing to do about it but move forward.

“What are you going to do to earn my forgiveness?” She glanced over her shoulder with a grin.

“I believe you instructed me to have a meal,” said Hubert like he was accepting a mission. Mercedes felt the thrill of anticipation as Hubert’s hands left her scar. She let out a playful yelp as he rolled her over and spread her legs. Yet his face contorted as if he were planning out a battle strategy instead of gazing upon a lover. His hands kneaded and gently squeezed at her flesh as if hers was the first thigh he’d ever touched. She didn’t enjoy feeling sized up and part of her just wanted him to say something, anything, rather than this silence.

Mercedes was acutely aware she’d arrived fully grown to Garreg Mach and had still easily gained the fabled Officer’s Academy stone from the stress of classes and the knight-sized dining hall portions. She liked her body just fine most of the time, but not as much when watched peoples eyes pass her over for others. It was hard not to feel unworthy of attention when she felt perpetually ignored. Mercedes realized with a twinge of embarrassment that she was waiting for Hubert to make a snide remark about her appearance or change his mind and stop. When he instead began to kiss around her navel and started working his way down her body tensed up. Hubert stopped and pulled back, “Am I doing something wrong?”

Mercedes shook her head with probably too much enthusiasm, “No, no you can keep going.”

Hubert nodded with a grin, and then left the bed to get on his knees. He pulled at her greedily as he started to run his tongue along her. Mercedes didn’t know what to do with herself as she felt him exploring her entrance with his mouth, so she let her head fall back on her pillow. She got the distinct impression he’d never done this before and she tried not to wiggle to much as he figured things out. Mercedes shut her eyes as she felt him beginning to suck at her, gently at first, and then with increasing confidence.

Whatever experience he lacked he made up for in effort. Mercedes felt a little braver and began to order him around, “Keep doing that,” or “Higher,” and “Lower”. Mercedes let her legs drape over his shoulders as his hands settled where her thighs met her hips. Realizing they were not trying to keep things a secret like in the infirmary, Mercedes allowed herself to surrender to whatever sounds she felt moved to make. Eventually he pulled back and wiped his mouth with an uncertain look on his face. “Was that any good?” His words were hesitant and he was studying her face with the expressed intent of understanding if she’d enjoyed it.

“It’s fine, I’ll let you practice again later,” she said with a breathless smile. He was no expert, but he had a budding talent she wanted to encourage. She saw the corner of his lip lift as he absently stroked himself, even as a shiver passed through him. Mercedes frowned and wondered if he’d healed enough for this, “Is something wrong?”

“Your room is cold,” said Hubert. She could see the goose bumps on his skin.

“I’m warm,” she whispered as she settled into a comfortable pose. She lit a small fire spell in her fingers and let it dance, “Come closer and I’ll heat you up—”

Hubert stood and cupped his hands around hers to snuff out the spell, “You’re going to light your bed on fire.” He sounded less than amused.

“Would you ever be interested in trying some sensual spells?” She bit her lip as she pictured the ones she wanted to try on him.

“Perhaps,” said Hubert as he released her hands and laid down. “I cannot say I know any.”

“Here, let me show you one,” offered Mercedes as she re-positioned herself between his legs.

She watched him tense up. “Are you sure you want to—”

“I don’t offer to do things unless I want to do them,” promised Mercedes as she lowered her lips to his hips. As Mercedes kissed him she felt him flinching away, “Just relax, I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

She began with a slow and gentle stroking to try to ease his nerves. Mercedes took a good look at his penis and fondly remembered a silly, carefree evening during school. Hilda had been soliciting opinions from select officer’s academy ladies on what they thought the various members of the opposite sex looked like naked. It all came down to personality rather than any actual knowledge, and Mercedes was convinced that night that few of those young women had a lick of sexual experience. All the handsomest boys — Dimitri, Ferdinand, Claude — were expected to have dicks of ‘just the right size’, not too big, and not too small. Raphael and Dedue were believed to have penises as massive as they were, while Caspar and Ignatz were sure to have small ones. As for Hubert, his was assumed to be as dark and crooked as he was. Hilda would probably be disappointed to learn Hubert’s penis wasn’t noteworthy in any way.

Mercedes was of the opinion that it didn’t matter what a person possessed beneath their clothes, so much as what they did with what they had. Mouths and fingers, and in her case magic, could go far when applied the right way. To Mercedes, oral sex was far more intimate than what they’d done in the infirmary. It was one thing to get in a quick romp bumping their hips together, it was another thing entirely to use her mouth. It meant smelling and tasting him, not to mention the discomfort of wanting to gag if she took things too far.

She kept stealing glances up at his face as she bobbed and sucked at him. Hubert’s eyes were closed and from his facial expressions Mercedes could glean that he was feeling good and probably did not realize she was spying on him. One of his hands started weaving through her hair as she continued. She decided to use her hands too as she let her fingers creep along behind his balls. His eyes opened wide with surprise but he didn’t stop her. Mercedes settled on trying out one of the tamer spells from _Bedchamber Black Magic_ when she finally reached the spot she wanted to hit.

Hubert let out a choked sound of surprise and went rigid as the spell passed through his pelvis. She probably ought to have given him warning as she found herself accepting his sudden and unexpected release. She ended up swallowing some of it by accident, and immediately spit out what was left in her mouth. Hubert looked at her in horror, “I, I didn’t mean to—” His words were slow like he had momentarily forgotten how to speak.

Mercedes shrugged with levity as she finished wiping her chin, “I believe that is what’s supposed to happen.” She got up to pour some water into a basin so she could wash her hands and then gave her mouth a good rinse. “I’ll take it as a sign you liked it.”

“I, no one’s ever done that for me,” whispered Hubert. He almost sounded a touch ashamed and that worried her. The last thing she wanted was someone sorry that she’d made them orgasm.

Mercedes gave him an easy smile as she tried to offset his nervousness, “What, no one’s ever done some magic of that nature to you?”

“No. I meant no one’s ever used their mouth,” clarified Hubert, with his voice trailing off at the end. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never performed cunnilingus before either.”

She was surprised by her blush at his clinical sounding language, “I enjoyed it.” As if moving automatically she set a kettle to boil for tea. “Do you want any?”

“Water’s fine,” said Hubert as he got up to rinse his own mouth out. They danced around each other awkwardly as they picked up their clothes. Mercedes got straight into a cozy flannel robe but all Hubert had was his thin little cotton shorts. She wondered if she ought to offer him one of her nightgowns as she watched him shivering.

Mercedes eventually settled into bed with her tea and Hubert beside her. He was freezing even beneath the blankets, and she found herself clutching at her tea cup for warmth. “You’re very quiet,” she murmured between sips. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper cuddle with a person. Kittens and cats were great but another human was unparalleled.

“My apologies, are we supposed to talk?” asked Hubert as his hand traced across her middle. She thought she spied a smirk on his lips, “Read any good books lately?”

“Yes, actually,” she said as she gave him a gentle pinch around his exposed nipple. This was the fun part, exploring a body and figuring out what various touches did to it. Each person was unique and waiting to be mapped out and understood. She decided she’d hold off on testing if he was ticklish, for now. “We don’t have to talk, but forgive me for being a little curious about you. Even if it’s just who you’ve been with or what you’ve done.”

“I think I’d prefer if you stayed curious,” whispered Hubert as his hold on her tightened. “The little I’ve done isn’t worth talking about.”

“Well, would you be interested in doing anything more complicated in the future? Perhaps we could try some spells or restraints, something of that nature.” She could sense his pulse picking back up at the question.

“If that is something you would enjoy then I am open to it,” said Hubert.

“Well what do you want to try?”

He was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t necessarily have anything specific I wish to try,” admitted Hubert. “I don’t generally think of being with people intimately so it’s not something I’ve given much thought to.”

Mercedes set her tea aside and then turned so they could be face to face, “You’ve never had an attraction to anyone?” She paused, “What do you think about when you, um, you know—” She let her hand run along his inner thigh and teased at the hem of his shorts.

Hubert shut his eyes, “I think about strangers mostly, people I do not care to get to know. I think about them on their own, I don’t want to be involved.”

“So you want to be a voyeur,” said Mercedes. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that but supposed it fit his lurking nature. “Like when you were spying on me dancing last year?”

His nose wrinkled at the suggestion, “It’s not like that, it’s,” his voice trailed off. “It’s not about actually watching, I doubt I would enjoy that. No it’s more about envisioning people experiencing pleasure.” Mercedes took that as an invitation to move her hand within his shorts.

“So, you like to envision other people experiencing pleasure, but not you?” asked Mercedes. There was a long silence as Mercedes waited for him to elaborate. It was clear this was getting her nowhere. She decided to redirect her questioning, “Other than strangers, have you ever thought of me when you’re alone?”

She could feel him getting hard again slowly as she continued with her stroking. “Yes, I’ve thought about you before,” whispered Hubert.

“And did you picture us together, or were you just imagining me touching myself?” She let her other hand skirt across her breasts as she began to play with herself.

He let out a little groan as their hips brushed against each other, “Together. I imagined you were in my lap, with your hair down.” One of his hands traced up her thigh pushing apart the panels of her robe, “Though I would not mind watching how you get yourself off.”

Mercedes smiled softly as she pulled his penis free from his shorts, “Well, I think I might understand focusing on people you don’t know. Personally, I often think about being with people I find attractive, even if I’d never want to _actually_ be with them, like Seteth or Rhea—”

“Rhea,” he repeated incredulously.

“You’ve seen her. Obviously I’m not referring to her dragon form, but she’s an extremely attractive woman.” Mercedes carefully settled his penis between her thighs to keep him warm.

“That’s, so, _sacrilegious_ ,” whispered Hubert with something between disbelief and awe heavy in his voice as she slowly moved with him. He began to kiss her neck as she established an agreeable rhythm. “Tell me what you’d do to Saint Seiros if you had her here.”

Mercedes let out a surprised but satisfied gasp as his hands came up to touch her breasts as she had been touching them. “I suppose I’d have to give her my daily prayers,” said Mercedes as Hubert’s thumbs grazed her nipples through her robe. “Perhaps I’d start with my fingers undoing all the jewelry in her hair. Then I’d ease her out of those layers and get down on my knees to pray.” She began to slide against Hubert’s cock. “I’ve never heard her sing, so I suppose I’d try to get a hymn out of her.” There she went turning herself back on; Mercedes figured Hubert was still in her bed and perhaps they still had more to do tonight. Mercedes arched her neck for him to get closer. It felt good to have his lips gently sucking at her but she hoped he didn’t leave too big a mark. “Although, I personally was always more inclined towards the faculty and knights than the Archbishop.”

“Like Hanneman?” teased Hubert as his lips moved along the length of her neck. His fingers were furiously pulling open the front of her robe as he began to approach her breasts with his mouth. “Or like the professor?”

Mercedes grinned mischievously, “I think everyone was a bit taken with him.”

“He was something,” whispered Hubert. She could hear the smile in his voice as his teeth gently grazed her skin. He was completely erect now between her thighs. Mercedes shifted their bodies and pushed his underclothes down his legs. Hubert’s voice was thick, nearly purring, as he spoke in her ear, “Everyone seemed to want a piece of him.” The ties of her robe were coming undone. The chill of her room was harsh but Hubert was finally warm against her. “Tell me what you wanted him to do to you,” begged Hubert between his kisses as their naked bodies pressed against each other. “Picture him instead of me.”

Mercedes wasn’t entirely sure she could picture Byleth in Hubert’s place, but she supposed there was no harm in just telling him what she wanted. “I suppose I’d want him to start with my nipples,” she suggested as Hubert got to it. “Maybe use his teeth a little,” she whispered as his mouth took her orders. “Maybe less teeth,” she added hastily in response to his bites. “And he’d touch me here,” she whispered as she guided one of his hands down.

There was an added vigor to his movements that caused Mercedes to moan. Hubert’s fingers slid inside her, “You’re so wet for the professor. Do you want me behind you, so it’s easier to imagine it’s him—”

Mercedes found herself clenching up at the suggestion. “I’m wet because of what you’re doing. I’m not really interested in projecting him upon you, it feels rude, and besides, he’s _dead_.” It did not turn her on to picture a corpse. Now her arousal was beginning to fade.

Hubert looked absolutely mortified as he withdrew his fingers, “Of course, my apologies. This was in poor taste.”

Mercedes reached out to try to comfort him, “It’s alright if you want to have sex in that position, but I don’t really want you to pretend to be someone else.”

Hubert eased himself free of her embrace, “I don’t think I have it in me to do this twice tonight. It’s late, I should go.” His erection was rapidly relaxing.

“Oh,” said Mercedes. There was silence between them as Hubert got up and started pulling on his clothes. Mercedes sat up in bed and pulled her robe closed, “You’re really leaving because I don’t want you to pretend to be the professor?”

His skin flushed with embarrassment, “I apologize. It’s easier for me to do this if the room is dark, or knowing that you’re picturing someone else. As soon as I let it be me in my head things get ruined.” He began to pull on his clothes as fast as possible.

Mercedes watched in stunned silence as she struggled to find her voice, “Hubert, I’m just trying to get to know you. If you’d prefer to pretend we’re other people, I suppose I can try that, I just want to know ahead of time. I mean, I liked the professor but,” her voice trailed off.

“I shouldn’t have suggested him, as if anyone would ever be able to picture me in his place,” said Hubert as he finished getting on his shoes.

“Why did you pick him then?”

Hubert shut his eyes and swallowed as he finished buttoning his jacket. “Because everyone liked him.”

“Even you?” Mercedes wondered what sort of fantasies Hubert had concerning Byleth. She gave him an encouraging look, “Do you want to tell me about that? Because I would like to picture you—”

“Stop please,” whispered Hubert as he cut her off. He averted his eyes from her, “The professor and I had a rocky start. I was suspicious at the ease at which he managed to get close to people. Even the most cautious person I know trusted him after barely any time at all.” Hubert’s eyes returned to hers, “I didn’t fantasize about being with him, I fantasized about removing him. I was obsessed with catching him in the act of something, _anything_ , to show everyone that he wasn’t as wonderful as they thought.” She could see the shame and embarrassment clear in his expression, “But I was the one who was wrong. He supported us, when we gave him every reason not to.”

Mercedes gave him a hopeful smile, “So? That means you can change your mind about people.”

Hubert gave her a puzzled look, “Excuse me?”

“You said you were suspicious of him, but then he changed your mind, I think that shows growth,” said Mercedes as she sought out the positive instead of lingering on the bad.

“Yes well it hardly matters because as you’ve pointed out, he’s dead,” said Hubert dryly. He sank his hands in his pockets and gave a look towards her door, “I should go, thank you for this. I apologize again for the disastrous turn of this evening.” His head tipped towards her in a small bow, “Until next time, assuming you wish to continue.”

“Wait,” said Mercedes as she reached behind her nightstand to produce her hidden copy of _Bedchamber Black Magic_. “I’ve bookmarked some spells I wish to try, if you want to read them over. Maybe we can start with something simple next time, and work up to these?” She got out of bed to cross chilly room to present it to him.

Hubert looked bemused as he accepted the book. His expression bled into surprise as he flipped through the pages. “Right, something simple.”

Mercedes gave him her most encouraging smile, “I’ll bring what we need. Maybe we should meet in your room next time since mine is too chilly right now?”

Hubert snapped the book shut and nodded, “Right, my room, next time. How do we signal to each other what we—”

“If you see me wearing a black ribbon in my hair, then be in your room at midnight,” said Mercedes with a playful rush of anticipation. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be a spy undercover. “Leave the door unlocked if you’re interested.”

“Very well, good night,” said Hubert.

“Just one more thing,” said Mercedes as she tiptoed up to kiss him goodbye. She ran her fingers through the hairs on the back of his head as she held his stare, “If I didn’t want you here, _you_ wouldn’t be here. You don’t have to pretend to be someone else.” His lip twitched like he wanted to smile, but Hubert just nodded at her before he slipped out of her room and into the freezing night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah 200+ kudos? This is by far my most viewed/kudo'd/commented fic so thank you! I really appreciate the engagement :)


	32. Blood of the Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette spies on Khalid and Hubert finally opens up the family memoir. Both find more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: 
> 
> Mentions of the Goneril family's owning of Almyran slaves (which I have moved to the past rather than recent times), and implied rape of humans by Nabateans.

Annette was finding it extremely difficult to get Khalid in a conversation. He was understandably busy with his new role and planning attacks, but Annette was burning with the need to know what the Alliance would do if the Empire struck the Kingdom. She was growing anxious worrying over the question of if the Alliance would help them at all. However, each attempted request for a private conversation with Khalid was deflected or denied. There was always some reason or another that Annie couldn’t argue with. Today’s excuse was a big fancy dinner to honor Khalid’s ascension to his new position.

The other aspect of being in the Alliance that Annette wasn’t prepared for was _Hilda_. They had not interacted much in school outside axe class, but now that Annie had pledged Crusher to the Alliance, for now, Hilda had essentially made her an honorary Golden Deer. This was how Annette found her hair and make-up being done by the pink haired young woman, “Oh this is the perfect shade!”

Annette didn’t disagree with the selection, Hilda did have a great eye for coordinating make up and accessories, but Annie wanted to talk war not hair clips. “So did you know that _Clau_ —, I mean Khalid, is Almyran?” Everyone who had attending Garreg Mach was fumbling their way through unlearning Claude’s name.

“I suppose there was gossip about his mother, Tiana. I remember Balthus and my brother were obsessed with solving the mystery of where she went off to since no one seemed to be looking. You know if I just went missing, my father would turn this country upside down looking for me. Rewards, bounty hunters! So it was kind of weird that Duke Riegan just said she ran away,” said Hilda. “And then when Khalid just showed up suddenly with the crest of Riegan claiming to be some minor branch well, he’d have to be pretty far removed to be completely unknown,” said Hilda as she began powdering Annette’s cheeks. “The Margrave keeps track of all the crests, he must have suspected something, right Marianne?”

Marianne looked up in surprise as if she was hoping to blend into the chair she was sitting in, “Oh, he didn’t say anything about it to me.”

Hilda began doing Annette’s hair, which had gotten very long with all the time that had passed since her last cut. “He definitely waited until he had an upper hand to disclose that, with my father retired from the council and Count Gloucester gone. They would have been his biggest opposition.” She began to braid, and adopted a gruff tone that Annette suspected was an impression of her father, “Can’t trust an Almyran.” Hilda laughed easily, “I think it’s a good thing. We’ve had fewer attacks on the Locket since Khalid showed up, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I don’t know if he’s in line for their throne or not, but he clearly has some clout.”

Annette pursed her lips as she contemplated that. Khalid had said he had no plans of joining Leicester and Almyra, but she also remembered Claude in school being willing to say just about anything to get his way. “Yeah, at least he has the support of their navy,” said Annette with hope that Enbarr was going to be royally destroyed soon.

“They are some of the best warriors around,” mused Hilda. Her face was all smiles, but her voice was straining. “Although my brother defeated Nader once, so we hold our own.” She fiddled with the clips she was using to secure the braids and Annie felt the awful stab of the little metal hairpins as Hilda focused in, “My family doesn’t have the greatest history with Almyra.” She sucked in an uncomfortable breath, “Khalid hasn’t brought it up, but um, I know he knows my family had indentured servants.”

“What?” Annette was not expecting that at all. “Recently?”

Hilda frowned, “It was over a hundred years ago!” It was hard to tell if she was frowning about the topic or just concentrating extra hard, “Look I can’t be held responsible for something bad my great-grandfather did okay? I just know the Almyrans in our employ were treated badly enough that the acting Archbishop put an end to forced servitude in all of Fodlan.” There was a tiny hint of shame masked beneath the normal bubbly air of Hilda’s tone.

“What happened?”

“The story goes there was a little Almyran boy, orphaned and made into a child soldier, by his own people mind you, that ended up in our household,” said Hilda as if people just wandered into forced servitude. “The acting archbishop visited, and was not too pleased with the living conditions. She stepped in and rescued the boy, and then unleashed her fury on my ancestor,” explained Hilda. Annette felt the braids Hilda doing tighten immensely as Hilda explained the story. “I’m sure it’s been exaggerated in time, it sounds like a fairy tale at this point, like Crestella.”

“Crestella,” repeated Annette in disbelief at the comparison.

“You know, the crested girl with the wicked stepmother who makes her clean and do laundry and stuff,” said Hilda dismissively.

“Crestella wasn’t real though,” said Annette. As if any wicked stepmother wouldn’t sell off a crested daughter to the highest bidder!

“Well, it’s not as if the Almyrans are known for being very nice to each other—”

Marianne cleared her throat in a very polite, ‘ _please no more_ ’. “It was in the past,” said Hilda, deftly moving away from the topic. “Marianne can I do your hair too?”

“If that would make you happy,” said Marianne. Her eyes were downcast and she did not look like she was looking forward to the party at all.

“Are you planning to dance with Sylvain?” teased Hilda as she started to brush out Marianne’s pale blue hair. Marianne said nothing.

Annette looked in the mirror and had to hand it to Hilda that she sure knew how to make a girl look as good as Crestella’s fairy godmother. She watched through the mirror as Hilda began preening Marianne, “Why does everyone in the alliance have such colorful hair?” It hadn’t been something she hadn’t fully been aware of until coming to Garreg Mach. The people south of the Oghma mountains looked downright vibrant. Up north it was exciting to have red hair, but down south people had blue, pink, even green hair.

“Blood of the goddess I guess,” shrugged Hilda as if it were a well known expression.

“What?”

Hilda held up Marianne’s beautiful blue hair, “The children of the goddess were _colorful_. Sometimes they mated with humans, and occasionally passed on exciting hair and eye colors.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that the children of the goddess married humans,” said Annette. That was definitely not in the book of Seiros.

“They didn’t marry them,” said Marianne in a pained voice.

Hilda pursed her lips and worked on a particularly elaborate braid, “Let’s just say it wasn’t consensual most of the time.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Annette with growing horror. “Is that how they actually passed on their crests?”

“No, no,” said Hilda with an awkward laugh. “Crests were given to the ten elites to win the war of heroes! The mixing happened in the ancient past, like, when Sothis was kicking around.”

“Is this well known?” Annette had never heard this before.

“Well down here it is! Who knows, maybe it’s just a myth to explain why we have such great hair,” said Hilda with a wink as she finished with Marianne’s hair and started on her own. “Marianne and I probably have dragon blood. I bet you a lot of people in the Alliance and Empire do, doesn’t the Emperor have violet eyes?”

“Yeah,” said Annette. She imagined Rhea looking at them as kin, and feeling the fierce betrayal of Edelgard declaring war.

“And the Margrave might have red hair, but those bright green yellow eyes of his aren’t fooling anyone,” said Hilda with an affectionate pinch of Marianne’s cheek.

“He doesn’t talk about things like that,” said Marianne quietly. “I don’t know much about his past.”

Hilda hummed as she began doing her own makeup. Marianne was stealing looks at the door as if at any moment she might bolt. She turned a particular shade of white as Sylvain appeared in the doorway. “Ladies.” He was looking cleaned up and Annette could not help but shake her head as Hilda not subtly tried to push Marianne at him.

“I love playing matchmaker,” whispered Hilda into Annette’s ear as she linked arms with her and lead the way down the corridor to the grand reception hall. Annette was just grateful she wasn’t on Hilda’s list of people to be paired off.

The celebration was more or less an outright ball. Annette supposed this was the Alliance equivalent of a coronation, although it seemed slightly subdued by the war. Hilda wasn’t exaggerating when she said the Alliance was colorful. People dressed so much more brightly here than compared to Faerghus. The clothes were also flowing and revealing in ways that Annette had never seen. It was a beautiful sight and made Annette wish for a time of peace when she could travel and see just how different the corners of Fodlan were from each other.

Khalid was dressed in what could only be described as a mashing of traditional Fodlan and Almyarn garb. His golden doublet was paired with a colorful sash of green, yellow and black, adorned with a variety of small pom-poms. Annette had never seen anything like it. He was all smiles tonight but she wondered if he was sad or not that his parents were not here to celebrate his ascendance to his new title.

After a big ceremony where Oswald passed on the family relic, a massive bow called Failnaught, dinner was served. The food was wonderful but Annette had little appetite. She was getting worried for the Kingdom, and worried what the Emperor’s next move would be. Annette found herself offering up a guilty little prayer to the Goddess, ‘ _please let Edelgard focus on Derdriu_ ’. As she pushed her food around her plate she dreamed of rescuing Mercedes and kidnapping Felix and high tailing it home. Perhaps they could even bag up Dimitri and force him back to Fhirdiad too. Everything wouldn’t be right again, but at least they’d be together.

She sniffled as she thought about her friends and Sylvain gave her a concerned look, “Are you okay?”

Annette looked up at him in shock that he was paying attention. “Sorry, I’m just thinking about things, thinking about the fight that’s coming.”

“It’ll be here soon enough,” said Sylvain as they looked down the extremely long table towards their host. “But we’ll be ready.”

Annette forced a brave look and a smile, “How’s Ragnorak coming?”

Sylvain flushed and focused back on his plate, “I’ll get it down in time, don’t worry.”

She smirked but didn’t tell him that she had low expectations. With a sigh Annette focused on getting through this dinner. Her plan during the dancing was to partner up with Khalid, and finally force the question of just what his plans were for her home.

Unfortunately he was the most popular dance partner by far and Annette wasn’t even getting close. She resigned herself to spying on him and waiting for Khalid to take a bathroom break. She’d ambush him on his way back from the powder room.

Annette could see Khalid leaving for the hallway, presumably to get a brief rest from all the hand shaking and smiling. This was her chance. To her chagrin Sylvain followed after her, “What are you doing?”

“I just need to talk with him,” whispered Annette. “I need to know that if we help, we’ll get help back.” She let Khalid walk ahead as she trailed him from a reasonable distance so she could maintain the element of surprise.

“So you’re just going to corner him?” asked Sylvain in disbelief.

Annette rolled her eyes and pressed forward until Sylvain pulled her back and pointed to where Khalid was standing with someone almost fully obscured by the darkness of the corridor: Margrave Edmund. Annette frowned as she and Sylvain slid into the shadows along the wall. They stayed near the doors so the sounds of the ball would help mask their own, but Annie was struggling to hear. She crept forward just a little in an attempt to eavesdrop.

“The map of Enbarr you requested, with the locations we discussed marked,” said the Margrave as he passed Khalid a leather bifold. He sounded absolutely exhausted. “Do an old man a favor and leave the rest of the imperial cemetery alone.”

“Just for sentimentality’s sake, or something more?” asked Khalid as he tucked the map away into his ornate jacket.

“It’s bad luck to disturb the dead,” said the Margrave. “There’s a great deal of history in that city you’re about to destroy.”

“You give me too much credit. I’m only looking to decimate morale,” said Khalid with a lightness to his words. “People can’t be resentful of their Emperor for leaving them unprotected if they’re dead.”

“If it’s the Emperor’s total focus you’re looking for, I have no doubt you shall receive it,” said the Margrave.

“It’s not her attention I’m after,” said Khalid quietly. All levity had fled his voice. “The goal is to break her people, especially those closest to her. I want to get her alone.”

“Once you plant this seed of chaos, you cannot control how it will grow,” warned the Margrave.

Khalid was silent for a moment before speaking, “Edelgard planted that seed with this war. I merely intend on harvesting the fruits of her labor.”

“You do not have take this whole thing on yourself. Your new allies bring relics, let them help you,” urged the Margrave.

“My parents raised me to fight my own battles,” said Khalid as he shrugged and rolled his neck. “Plus I need to get in some target practice with my new bow.” He let out an easy sigh, “Besides I want Rhea to know this was me.”

The Margrave was quiet for a few beats as he tapped his fingers to his lips. “What are your plans for the Archbishop, ultimately?”

“That’ll depend on Rhea’s response to my little message,” said Khalid as he looked down the hall. Annie felt her breath catching in her throat as she wondered if he sensed he was being spied on. “She’ll either be an important ally, or a potential enemy. It could go either way.” There was a long silence between them and Annette wondered how long this conversation was going to go on for. Then Khalid dropped his voice down to a difficult to hear whisper, “You seemed unsettled by Lorenz’s information on Edelgard and Lysithea. Any theories on how someone gets two crests?”

“If you’re thinking how great it would be to have your own crest of flames, allow me to stop those thoughts here. Nemesis went mad thanks to that crest,” said the Margrave with a sharp warning in his tone. “I still have a number of questions about how Byleth Eisner came to possess it, and the Flame Emperor merely makes me more interested in solving that riddle.” He let out a pensive sigh. “If all you’ve told me about that professor is true, I suspect he and her majesty may have received their _special_ crest in a similar fashion, perhaps even from the same source. I will continue to look into him, hopefully that trail is not completely cold.”

“Speaking of which, here’s what was found in that ruin outside Goneril,” said Khalid as he produced some folded up papers. “There wasn’t anything there save for strange markings on the wall. It had to have been abandoned centuries ago.”

“Of course it was,” hissed the Margrave. His tone softened, “Well thank your people for me. I imagine they found it to be a strange request.”

“This might have been a dead end, but I hope we can continue to help each other with such research,” said Khalid as he gestured for the Margrave to follow him back towards the ball. The two men began walking right towards Annette and Sylvain. Sylvain’s hand curled around hers as they began to slowly back up as silently as possible towards the entrance to the main hall.

They were going to get caught, they were so going to get caught. Annette’s heart was racing as she silently turned towards Sylvain with pleading eyes. Sylvain took a deep breath and then forcefully pulled her into a kiss as the Margrave and Khalid walked by.

“Oh whoa, don’t let us interrupt,” said Khalid with a surprised laugh as he skirted around the pair.

Annette’s face was burning as Sylvain released her and launched into a well rehearsed apology, “Oh, sorry! We were just looking for a private spot. We didn’t realize anyone was out here—”

Khalid winked at Annette, who wondered if she might just combust on the spot. He held up his hands as he slid past them, “Don’t mind us. We were just getting some air.”

As soon as Khalid and the Margrave were out of earshot, Annette shoved Sylvain in a mix of shock and horror, “You! You’re a no good dirty first kiss thief!”

Sylvain looked blindsided, “First kiss, Annie, I—”

Annette was furious, “You can’t just kiss someone like that. Ugh!” She wiped her tongue indelicately upon her sleeve.

“I’m sorry, but I had to do something,” hissed Sylvain. “How about next time you have us spontaneously spy on someone you come up with an exit strategy?”

“Don’t make this my fault,” said Annette as she folded her arms.

They glowered at each other for a few seconds before Sylvain looked back towards the ballroom where Khalid had gone to. “What do you think that was about?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Annette. The part that had caught her ear was on Rhea, presumed to be in the Kingdom, and that Khalid might make an enemy of her. A chill of anticipation was beginning to settle within her as she realized she would likely have to wait to find out what was going on when Khalid finally decided to reveal his full plan.

***

Hubert did his best to banish all thoughts about his encounter with Mercedes. He was unsurprised but grateful that she had not deigned to wear a black ribbon in her hair in the days since their awkward little escapade. He would not fault her for having second thoughts on him. In fact he expected it.

However if this was going to continue he needed to channel the person who did not like her so much. He had to relearn how to be detached and keep his cards closer to this chest. His mantra became a steady reminder that their relationship was purely physical, that she wanted to use his body to elicit her own pleasure. Any reciprocity was just Mercedes being her usual giving self. Those thoughts helped, though not as much as sitting at his desk and distracting himself with the most painful journals he could find.

The years spanning 1163-1166 had been difficult for him personally — it was just him and his father in the Enbarr house in those days — and reading his grandfather’s assessment of Robert’s parenting decision was tough. Something had shifted in Bertram’s tone when it became clear Hubert wasn’t being sent away. Hubert went from a problem to fix to a thing to protect. Memories kept surfacing unwanted with each passing entry to the point where it became a joy to read his grandfather’s increasingly alarming mentions of Thales. Yet nothing was ever detailed, and Hubert was beginning to suspect Bertram knew Thales was too dangerous to write in plain language about.

_14th Harpstring Moon, 1165_

_Thales has become a regular invite to the cabinet meetings. Ionius politely declined my advice to keep him in his place. He’s a war mage, not a minister. I can only hope the exoticism of a new voice will fade and Ionius will grow bored with him before he gains too much standing. At the very least my son has not made the mistake of trusting him; it is the little things I must cling to with regards to Robert._

_I swear he read the family book and took every lesson only to subvert it. He’s keeping his poor son hostage in that house because that is “what a Vestra would do” rather than leave the boy with us or a family that could focus on him. Hubert’s a good child, but anxious and lacks confidence and social skills. I fear he’ll never find his own voice if Robert keeps him on this lonely course. He’d do much better with children his own age to play with and a parent not consumed with work._

_Robert also dares to quote that blasted book when it comes to Ionius, calling him Lycaon II in private. Yes things are in flux, but it is the Emperor’s right to demand fealty from his subjects. It’s an inappropriate comparison, and in the right context, treason. I can only hope he isn’t running his mouth to that dangerous social circle he runs with._

Hubert sighed and read over the entry again. He wondered just who comprised his father’s ‘dangerous’ social circle in those days. As a boy he remembered many loud nights and creeping around the house to watch his father’s parties. He had made spying into a game of sorts. When he was especially little he’d get caught and his father would take him back to his room and tuck him in telling him to sleep. As if anyone could sleep through such noise. So Hubert got good at avoiding detection. He liked to watch adults, in an attempt to understand how they worked and why they laughed at some things and but got mad at others. Hubert supposed in essence he was trying to understand why his father enjoyed other people so much more than his son.

Those parties ended though after Robert married, and Hubert supposed his stepmother could shed some light on who Robert was friendly with. Hubert imagined his step mother would not be delighted to hear from him. No the more direct and useful venture would be reading the first Vestra’s memoir to understand the source of his father’s rejection of Ionius. He gave a long look at the locked drawer and the memoir within. He’d just peek over the beginning, and that would help him decide if it was time to read the whole volume now or if it could wait. He expected it would be as dry and useless as the bones of the writer stored deep in the family tomb.

§

_Vestra, yr. 98_

My given name was Vestra, because I belonged to my mother and no one else. My grandfather flippantly suggested the name when my mother refused to name my father. She promised me that my sire would only disappoint me, though it took until I was grown to learn that truth for myself. That part of the tale will come in time. For now I shall begin with what I have been told of the time before the great flood that drowned the world.

These lands were known by man as Thinis at the center, surrounded by Malum, Septen, and Llium, with others named lands further flung. In ancient times there was not one Goddess, but a wide pantheon of divine beings. The world then was animus spirits dancing as magic wisps of flame, shifting mountains, crashing waves, and roots holding the realm of Kauket beneath the earth steadfast to Hyperion of the sky. Many people still hold these believes, even if they are not as open about it.

In mountainous Thinis there lies a thinning of the space between our waking world and the darkness in which the gods slumber. I am told this was a sacred site to the first peoples of this land. It was, and is still, a place of intense magic energy, and the most important city of the ancient world. Here was where Zahras of Zanado, the greatest mage amongst Agarthans, performed a spell trying to reach through the darkness and harness power beyond his mortal grasp. I am told he was chasing immortality, but he grabbed the attention of something much worse.

It was this crack through which the ‘goddess’ first stepped between her world and ours. In the centuries that followed Sothis reseeded her people, the Nabateans, and took the sacred grounds of Thinis for her throne. She renamed this place Fodlan and began to recast the world with her ‘children’. The Agarthans have sought to send her and her progeny back into the darkness ever since.

*

When my grandfather was a small boy of four the terrible flood ripped across the world. He told me of the rains that lasted weeks and the small boat he and his mother clung to as everything sank beneath the unforgiving waves. The rising waters swallowed Malum, Septen, Llium, and nearly covered the peaks of Thinis itself.

My grandfather learned to fish fast with whatever was available, and that was how he and his mother survived until the waters receded. The world was left in fragments with little out pockets of survivors. My grandfather and his mother were stranded upon an unfamiliar coast that became their home. The people who clumped together to form a new clan there named it Enbarr. Though they had survived the desolation of the flood, magic rained down on them from the sky to spite them. The Nabateans blamed all humankind for having killed Sothis and carrying out a slaughter of Zanado. In retaliation they began a brutal assault on those the flood had not claimed.

It was Seiros, the Immaculate One, who finally ceased the hunts. She spared Enbarr, telling the people they were chosen to survive by the almighty Goddess herself. Seiros began to heal the people there and helped them rebuild a livable world with her cohort. In return for her mercy, she won these peoples’ protection, and so in Enbarr she settled. To the north a war began to rage between the remaining Nabateans and all the creatures they condemned: half breeds, humans, and most of all, the actual instigators of this conflict, the Agarthans.

With Seiros’ protection, Enbarr grew from a sleepy fishing village praying to be passed by to a busy port with ships filled with visitors come to see the miracles. By the time my grandfather reached his prime, Enbarr was a city to rival the ones lost in the flood. It was seat of Seiros’ cult, and therefore it was the subject of frequent attacks from those who did not feel spared but spurned by the Goddess.

*

I respect my grandfather greatly, even though most of the present mess we find ourselves in was of his accidental making. His name is Wilhelm, son of Paul, and as Enbarr grew so did his influence. He was a natural warrior and leader, and in time he earned the title of chief of Enbarr. He had grown up in Seiros’ early religion, and was a loyal friend to her as he became one of Enbarr’s most well known faces.

Wilhelm married the daughter of a rival clan leader to bring an end to the fighting between their warring regions. They married beneath the traditions of both the Goddess and the old gods of the drowned world. That union produced a daughter, Bestla, my mother. For a time things were quiet as Seiros and her faithful kin slowly encroached across the land spreading their gospel and conquering the non-believers.

However my grandparents’ marriage was not enough to ensure a peace. When my mother was ten and four years, an attempt was made on the life of Saint Seiros as she went about her business in the streets of Enbarr. I am told the Agarthan assassin struck with dark magic so that his intentions and allegiances would not be mistaken.

Wilhelm dove into the blast to take the assault for Seiros. My mother spoke of watching his sword shattering in his hands, and the shards blasting backwards, delivering several mortal wounds. As he bled out in his daughter’s arms Seiros chased down and killed the attacker with her own holy blade.

By all accounts Wilhelm was dead from the spell and his own broken blade. The assassins hands had even gone so far as broken and blistered under the Goddess’ curse. Yet Seiros opened her own veins and gave him her blood, and pulled him back into the world of the living. Later, and only in private, my grandfather would say that was the closest thing to a true miracle Seiros ever performed.

My mother always said that her father never aged a day beyond his first death. He became stuck at four ten and five years from that moment forward. Seiros had made him immortal, knowingly or not. For his dedication and bravery, or perhaps for her crest within him, she kept Wilhelm very close. Within the year he had been bestowed a divine name, Hresvelg, by the saint herself and made into the first Emperor of Adrestia.

*

I was born to my mother in Enbarr beneath the Blue Sea Moon when she was two ten and one years. Traditionally this is the time of year when dragons are hatched; apparently is also the time for the time of half blood bastards born of a womb rather than an egg. I am told that even though my father denied all involvement in my creation, my aunt Seiros was fascinated by the possibilities my existence implied. Of course she’d heard of half bloods, but she had never been presented an opportunity to study one up close. My mother was not fond of Seiros nor her curiosity.

Nabatean blood given with complex magic to mortals means the transfer of a crest and ages frozen in time. Old fashioned mating merely gave me my father’s accursed longevity. I am also adept at black magic, at faith magic, and even dark magic — a talent I assume comes through my mother’s mother’s kin — which seems no coincidence. Still, to Seiros’ disappointment I did not inherent my father’s crest. So she decided to conduct her own experiments with the remaining Nabateans serving her. It was Lycaon, the product of a saint and a crested mortal, that finally proved the right combination. Immortality and a crest. Not quite a Nabatean, but as close as Seiros could get to reviving her people.

As I write this now a man of nine tens and two years I do not look much older than my grandfather when last I saw him. Perhaps I am bitter for having buried my children as they fade into old age. Perhaps I am sick of this never ending war against the Agarthans. Perhaps I am just tired, but I would not wish this longevity on anyone. Lycaon sees this curse as a divine gift; against all reason and advice, he intends to be the Eternal Emperor.

Nemesis is defeated. The Ten Elites cannot run from the wrath of Seiros and Wilhelm forever. Yet the Agarthans still persist in open warfare against Adrestia. My children’s children's children now join this never ceasing fight. Though we have not always seen eye to eye, I will never hand my family, Nabatean or otherwise, over to the Agarthans. Lycaon was always more brother than uncle to me; we waged the War of Heroes at his father’s heels. We fought at Gronder. We shattered the Tailtean plains. Yet the end of our era is long overdue. For the good of future Hresvelgs, Vestras, and Adrestia, Lycaon shall die by my hand this night.

§

No wonder this book was burned after reading. Hubert read over the last little bit again and felt dread creeping up his throat. The first Vestra had murdered the second Emperor, who was his uncle and another _half-dragon_. Hubert shut the cover softly and took a few centering breaths. This was not good.

Hubert and Edelgard shared an ancestor, Wilhelm the first, and perhaps even Sothis herself. He felt like throwing up at the revelation. Instead Hubert grabbed his coat and scarf and tossed the book into his satchel with his own journal and a lantern.

There would be no tea tonight, Hubert needed answers and he needed to find them himself. He left a note on his office door just in case Mercedes came by, _Something came up, apologies, -H_. Cryptic enough that no one need know who it was for or why it was left. With that he exited the main building and walked towards the bridge. It was dusk and people were making for the dining hall. Perfect. He wanted to be alone.

As Hubert walked the narrow channels where the snow had been melted away by fire spells he glared at the Cathedral. He could accept that the Vestras began as a bastard offshoot of the Hresvelgs. That explained why they were so close over the centuries. He could even accept that the first Vestra had deemed it necessary to remove an Emperor for the greater good, though it pained him to acknowledge that. Yet to be descendants of Nabateans, that was not a possibility Hubert had accounted for.

Hubert found the cathedral quiet. There were candles lit in the little area that Petra had taken over to honor the spirits of Brigid. Yet they were burned down half way and Hubert suspected Petra was gone. Nearby the area commandeered by the people of Duscar who had hidden away in the Abyss was beginning to bloom. Hubert stared at the intricately weaved tapestries though he did not understand the meaning that they held. 

A great deal of snow had come down through the open hole in the roof of the cathedral. It had been shoveled into a massive frozen iceberg in the middle of the Cathedral, and obscured the massive alter at the front of the grand chamber. Hubert narrowly slid around it, and made for the small chamber of the saints.

There they were in disrepair, the statues of Cethleann, Cichol, Macuil, and Indech. Hubert lit his lantern and held it up trying to get a better look at their faces. He and Edelgard assumed that if Rhea was Seiros, then Flayn and Seteth could be Cethleann and Cichol. As for Macuil and Indech they could be the two ancient Nabateans that Arundel was bragging about hunting to make more relics. The whole business was making Hubert absolutely ill.

“Which one of you was it?” hissed Hubert as he looked at the three male saints. Cichol had his mighty lance and a bishop’s hat. Indech was built up like a brawler in armor with a big bow. Macuil was in his mage robes with a sword and a smug expression.

Though it was freezing, Hubert took a seat and began to leaf through the pages of the memoir looking for his answer. The book was broken up into lengthy lessons — _responsibility and the vulnerable, how to be a good leader, the dangers of concentrated power_ — but Hubert would settle for a basic family tree. He felt like he was going mad as he flipped through pages and pages of musings with no concrete information on the family itself. Finally towards the end there was a last chapter — _To my children and their children_ — that Hubert began to read.

§

To my children and their children. I do not have the power to know what your grief will be when you learn what I have done to Lycaon. I do this so that you might live in peace. I accept the anger that you will hold towards me. I accept it will last generations and perhaps never fade.

Lycaon has ruled now for fifty years, and if his and his mother’s dreams are realized, he will rule for five hundred more. I do not know how long half-Nabateans might hope to live, but he shows no signs of slowing down. I am only a handful of years older than he, but with his crest he still appears youthful and full of vitality while I slowly creep into middle age. I must assume he could rule indefinitely if not stopped.

Adrestia controls Fodlan, though only in name at the moment. It is Seiros who rules. The Agarthans, from their well hidden stronghold, continue to attack even though their champion Nemesis is dead. Their feud is with the Nabateans. If we distance ourselves from the dragons, the masters of dark mages will leave us alone. So I have made a deal: Lycaon’s life to spare Adrestia more warfare. I cannot promise what Seiros will continue to do to the Agarthans or the descendants of the Ten Elites. Let her fight her own war, and slowly reduce your support of her causes until you can fully remove her influence from the Empire. She would gladly see you all dead if it means winning her vengeance.

As for me, we shall not meet again. First I will go to Seiros and my grandfather and explain what I have done. If I should survive that, I will seek out my father, that wretch, and try to see if we can ever see eye to eye. I expect we shall not. I will keep tabs on you, to see if the crest of Macuil ever surfaces, though I predict it shall never manifest in any of you. That is for the best.

The Vestras do not have crests. They power they give is not worth the danger they bring. The Vestras do not take land, for it shall only make us greedy for more and we have all we need in the shadow of the Hresvelgs. The Vestras serve the Hresvelgs because we owe them a debt; I will have killed their patriarch and I feel no remorse for this. They need us to help guide them, and to cull whatever madness from dragons may be in their veins thanks to the crest my grandfather never asked for. The shine of their power must be enough for us, and we will thrive through protecting them.

The continent should not be united beneath a single ruler. It is too diverse, too big, and too unwieldy for one Emperor to hope to rule without causing the people misery. After my business with the dragons is done, I shall begin to crack the world apart with whatever time I have left. Keep Enbarr, keep the lands west of the Airmyd, but do not try to hang onto much more. This is a defensible and controllable stretch. The rest can be lost in favor of peace. The people of this land are united by a culture that is different from the lands not initially conquered by Seiros’ cult. Most importantly the Agarthans are not here.

They lurk north of the Oghmas, they live east of the great river. Do your best to keep them out. I am forging a peace but they are a deceitful sort, and they will attempt to sink their talons in again. Spy on them all you can. They are a bigger threat than crests and dragons combined. They will try to seduce you and your liege with power. Do not be fooled by gifts from unseen hands.

It is with this I must leave you, my descendants of House Vestra. I apologize for any pain that I have caused. Know that I do this because I love humans, and I pity what my antecedents have done to you. Yet, should you ever aid an Emperor in trying to take over Fodlan again, know that if I survive I will come for you. I have put down one tyrant, I will not hesitate to put down another even if I must take you with them.

§

Hubert felt like the air had been forcibly sucked from his lungs at the end of the passage. He now had an answer, the von Vestras were descendants of Macuil. Yet the passage had given Hubert even more terrible insight into the past. His ancestor had cooperated with the Agarthans and had traded Lycaon for a tenuous peace. Then he promised to break the world apart.

The fissure of the Empire was taught as a disastrous time for Adrestia. Yet perhaps it was this Vestra’s doing. Hubert’s mind drifted to King Loog’s shadowy adviser Pan, and then the later seceding of the Alliance. Hubert wondered if it was not all connected. His heart was pounding as he gave a vengeful stare at the statue of Macuil, “Thank you for producing a half blooded radical with a flair for retribution.” He wondered how long half-Nabateans lived and if one was actively plotting against him now. 


	33. Persistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes wears a black ribbon in her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scene occurs in the second half

Hubert was not at dinner, which was a bit disappointing to Mercedes as she played with the black ribbon she’d spent quite a bit of time intricately braiding into her hair. She shrugged off his absence and went about her business as usual. Mercedes always stopped by the Cathedral after dinner, when it was most empty, to say some prayers for her friends. She was enjoying how the space was transforming and learning a great deal. Petra had explained the concept of Brigid’s spirits to her and Mercedes was even learning about the worship practices of Duscar. She was also beginning to form her own personal and unique spiritual practice.

It involved a lot of honoring every new religion she was learning about in a way that she suspected was compatible with none of them. Yet Mercedes persisted, committing herself to being a student of every religion and bending all the rules to make them work together. In Brigid there were spirits all around, even inside people, while in Duscar there were many gods. In the Church of Seiros there were the saints, and Mercedes was beginning to wonder what their roles had been. Perhaps everyone was onto something different that made up a bigger picture — like all the pieces of colored glass coming together to make a scene in a stained glass window — and it just took stepping back and looking at it all in full to appreciate that. Maybe they all needed to be recognized with offerings and respect for the world to find some peace.

At least for Mercedes it was helping her sleep at night to believe that the Goddess was allowing this war because it was bringing people together, in a manner. She began her prayers at the center of the cathedral, that the war would be short with few casualties, and then began to make her rounds. First for Dedue’s safety, Mercedes gave her offerings at the Duscar alter. She hoped that the gods of protection and war could hear her all the way down here so far south from their home.

She’d decided at the Brigid shrine she’d offer up a candle to the flame spirit to keep Annette and Sylvain safe and warm wherever they were. For Ingrid and Dimitri, she knelt at the massive pile of snow encasing the Goddess’ alter. “May the troubles in your hearts melt away like this ice,” whispered Mercedes as she touched the frozen block. It was going to take ages to get that to happen. Last for Felix, she prayed the stars so that he would find a way to navigate his own path since he seemed so very conflicted all the time.

Mercedes felt the chill of the night deep in her bones as she picked up her lantern and made to leave, until a soft light emanating from the chamber of the saints caught her attention. Mercedes was curious as to who was here and made her way towards the flickering light. The last person she expected to find was Hubert, shivering and reading at the foot of Saint Macuil’s statue. He was completely absorbed in his task, and from the way his candle had burned down it seemed he’d been there for a while.

Mercedes cleared her throat, “Hubert?”

He looked like his skeleton was trying to leave his body he was startled so badly by her appearance. She honestly did not think herself capable of sneaking up on him of all people, but clearly he’d been too distracted to notice her. He snapped his book shut and hurried to toss it into his bag, “What are you doing in here?”

“Praying, what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” insisted Hubert as he forced his stiff limbs up. He’d clearly been sitting there for some time.

“This is a strange place to do nothing in,” said Mercedes as she glanced around the darkened chamber of the saints. She could see her breath it was so chilly in here. “Anyway, you missed dinner,” continued Mercedes as she looked him over. Both his nose and cheeks were red from the cold and his hand was shaking as he clutched his lantern, “Is something wrong—”

“No. I am fine, I do not have an appetite,” said Hubert even as his stomach growled. He looked unsettled, far more than just someone who was merely startled. Whatever he’d been reading had affected him deeply.

“I’m sure there’s still some hot soup left, it was lentils tonight,” said Mercedes as she gestured for him to come join her. “It’ll warm you up I’m sure.”

He gripped the strap of his satchel tightly as he looked her over, “I’m fine, really. I have some urgent research I need to do, alone.” Even his voice was slightly shaky.

“You’ll concentrate better if you eat first,” said Mercedes. “Come on, I’ll sit with you, I’m sure the kitchen staff won’t turn away General von Vestra even though I do think they’re closing soon.”

“You’re not going to drop this are you?” said Hubert with resignation in his voice. Mercedes grinned and shook her head. He looked far more defeated than someone being bullied into eating dinner ought to. Sheepishly he followed her out of the Cathedral and into the cold night. The dinning hall was nearly cleared out as Hubert ladled himself a bowl of soup and took the last bread roll that no one wanted because it’d been burned one edge.

Mercedes couldn’t help her smile as she watched him picking at his meal. She was mostly curious over how long it would take him to notice the black ribbon. He returned a very perplexed look back at her, “Why are you smiling at me? I cannot imagine the sight of someone eating is very enjoyable.”

“I disagree,” said Mercedes in all seriousness as she sat up. “I prefer to watch people eating when I’ve made the food of course, but eating is good. It means people’s needs are being met.” Sharing a meal was contentment and security. She could still remember the taste of the simple stew she’d been given when she first arrived at the church in Fhirdiad and how massive her relief had been being filled with its warmth and love. She wanted everyone to have that.

Hubert paused only for a brief moment before proceeding to shovel his meal in as fast as possible. “There. I’m done, are you satisfied?”

He was being an absolute ass. Mercedes frowned as she looked him over, “You’re clearly upset. Are you sure you don’t want to take tea together and talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

“I need coffee,” grunted Hubert. “And to be by myself.”

“You seem like you need calming herbs and someone to listen,” said Mercedes.

Hubert sneered at her suggestion, “Calming herbs. As if I dabble in that nonsense.”

“I use that nonsense when I’m having trouble sleeping,” said Mercedes in a low voice. She didn’t like to rely on them, but the fact was sometimes she had awful nightmares about her childhood and the calming herbs took them right away. They engaged in a pointless staring match until Mercedes shrugged. “Fine, I’ve never had coffee, why don’t you prepare us both some? Then perhaps you’ll find the energy to explain to me why you suddenly don’t want me around,” said Mercedes as her voice grew curt.

Hubert looked almost as if he’d been slapped. “Why are you being so persistent? I thought you didn’t even like me.”

Mercedes stopped toying with the black ribbon in her hair, “I said we weren’t friends, I never said I didn’t like you, although right now you are testing the limits of my affection.”

Hubert stared down at his empty bowl before taking a deep breath and speaking in a stiff voice, “I apologize if I am being short with you. I am dealing with something very personal and unexpected at the moment.” He got up to take his tray to the wash station rather than let her ask him for any details. She watched as he cleaned the plates himself with sharp, angry movements.

Something was very wrong with him. It would be easy to walk away now, the night was still young, and do just about anything else with her time. Yet Hubert looked like he was standing on the precipice of something absolutely awful. “I accept your apology,” she said when he returned to the table. “I can leave you alone if you really want, but you seem very upset and I think I can help you if you’ll let me try.”

“I’m not sure that anyone can help me with this.” He stared at her for a few moments, “Do you really wish to try some coffee?” Mercedes nodded and Hubert sighed before motioning for her to follow.

Preparing coffee was not that much different than brewing up tea. Hubert kept a bag of beans in his office, and a small hand cranked grinder that he seemed to know just the right amount of beans to put in. “Do you know much about coffee?”

Mercedes shook her head, “No, it’s not very common in Fhirdiad.”

“It’s popular in Enbarr, brought from Dagda during the first Mach war. The soldiers from there hailed it as a miracle drink, because it kept them awake and focused, and made them more devastating fighters. I believe the first coffee house opened in Enbarr before that war was even finished.” Hubert added his grinds to a strange funnel, “My father was fond of cafes. On Saturdays when I was very young, we’d sometimes meander through Enbarr running errands, stopping for coffee for him and a sweet bun for me.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him speak so much, perhaps it just took a favorite topic to get him going.

Mercedes felt her lips turning up, “I didn’t think you had much of a sweet tooth.” He was renowned in school for not liking any sweets at all.

Hubert was using a black magic spell to heat his kettle. The steam whistled out of the top before he poured it over the funnel atop his coffee pot. “I lost my taste for such things,” said Hubert in a quiet voice. “Anyway, coffee is not considered a very proper drink. Tea is refined, relaxing, and polite. Coffee makes people feel awake, and full of energy. It’s for academics, and men who wish to stay up late and get into trouble. It’s served at brothels and smoke filled salons, and you won’t find many respectable women in the cafes.”

“Oh now I want to try it more,” said Mercedes with excitement. “It sounds dangerous.”

Hubert smirked at the slowly dripping coffee, “This particular roast is nutty, almost with a hint of chocolate, but you can get them as varied as any tea blend. They can be just as floral or fruity.”

“Pity, I should have baked something to go with it,” said Mercedes as she tried to envision what might pair well with the drink. Vanilla crumb cake sounded quite delightful to her at the moment.

She watched as he carefully filled two mugs. “I’ve left you room for cream and sugar, I suspect you’ll want it,” said Hubert as he passed her a nearly empty mug. He settled into his seat and let out a weary sigh as he held his own very full cup.

“So what has you so upset?” asked Mercedes as she reached out to rub his knee.

Hubert watched her hands for a brief moment before settling his stare into his mug, “I’ve just been reading some things I haven’t quite wrapped my mind around yet about my family.” He paused as his brow furrowed, “It’s ancient history. Sometimes I wonder if I’m wasting my time trying to understand all of it, perhaps my mind would be better utilized war planning for the coming spring.”

“So why are you spending so much time reading?” Mercedes dared to try to sip her coffee and found it far too warm. “Other than just to spend time with me of course,” she suggested with a twinge of sarcasm; his humor was unfortunately rubbing off on her.

His throat bobbed as he considered her question, “The more I know, the better decisions I can make. People tend to repeat themselves, and fall into patterns. Understanding them is critical for defeating them.”

“Strange that you’re reading about your own family then,” said Mercedes as she watched his face for a reaction.

He gave her nothing. “We’re on a course that’s hard to change, in no small part thanks to my forefathers both recent and ancient.” Hubert pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “I’ve come to learn the Agarthans are older, much older than I originally thought. Older than the Empire, older than Seiros even.” His eyes shut as he inhaled the steam rising off his drink. “Their roots run deep, and it will be a monumental task to rip them up.” His head tipped back and his eyes fixed on a crack in his ceiling, “My grandfather underestimated them. My father misunderstood them. Now it falls to me to figure out how to get rid of them. Once and for all.”

“You don’t have to do it alone you know,” said Mercedes. She dared to taste a tiny sip of coffee. It was terrible. Whatever promised hints of chocolate were hidden behind a wall of toasted bitterness. Mercedes unceremoniously dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into her mug. It barely helped.

“I owe it to the Hresvelgs to see this through,” muttered Hubert. “All of them, past and present.” He sat up and downed his entire cup of coffee in one long continuous sip.

Mercedes tried not to gape at the sight. Hubert looked at her mug, “Would you like any more?”

“No, I’m good if you want to finish it,” said Mercedes with a forced smile. She watched as he got up to pour himself more. His movements were extremely subdued. “You know, you’re not alone Hubert. It sounds like they’ve hurt a great many people, I almost wonder why Adrestia is fighting the church and not the slithers. It would be more just to take down them, maybe Rhea would have even helped—”

Hubert did not appear compelled by her words, “Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you do not find the church corrupt?”

Mercedes focused on her coffee, “I suppose I have felt that the Goddess would not be fond of what the church is these days.”

“When there was internal struggle within the church, Rhea sent the knights of Seiros to destroy the Western church,” argued Hubert.

Mercedes did not need reminding. She had been on the mission to take out Lonato. There was no more Western church. Yet there had also been plenty of dark mages around in that battle and in the holy mausoleum when the sword of the creator was found, “Were the Agarthans involved with what happened to the western church?”

Hubert just drank his coffee. Mercedes was frustrated by his silence, and decided to show her hand. “I overheard some things in the sealed forest. I know the Emperor has two crests, and it certainly seems like you both answer to Lord Arundel.”

Hubert looked like he’d aged a decade at her words, “You should not eavesdrop on the Emperor’s private conversations.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes, “And you should not talk so loud.” She added just a bit more sugar into her coffee and it became much more palatable. “I also overhead that he wishes to turn my friends into crest stones,” said Mercedes. She fixed her stare on Hubert; his face was completely neutral. “Do you deny it?”

“No,” said Hubert before taking a long sip of coffee. “Lord Arundel is incredibly powerful and very dangerous. Crest stones, and other materials only serve to strengthen him, so at any opportunity I have to undermine his access to them, I will.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s not a promise I make to you, it’s a promise I’ve already made to my Emperor,” said Hubert. There was a strange hint of a warning in his voice that Mercedes wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“It seems to me that you have more to gain by allying with the Alliance and the Kingdom than with all our common enemy,” said Mercedes.

“I believe the church is just as much our common enemy,” muttered Hubert as he returned to sit at the couch. “Neither Adrestia nor Agartha is strong enough to take down Rhea on their own.” He glanced at the hanging map of Fodlan on his wall, “The people in power in this place are there because of the system of crests. It would be against their self interest to destroy it, they will not help us.”

Mercedes was not sure that was true; it was not as if they’d asked. “So why are you leading this revolution, does the Emperor not stand to lose—”

“She has already lost everything,” said Hubert. He took a few breaths to compose himself. “You tell me you know the Emperor has two crests, did you ever stop to wonder if she wanted them?”

Mercedes had not. She focused on her coffee as Hubert finished his second cup. “The Emperor was one of eleven children. Can you imagine? One by one they were killed off in experiments. Edelgard is Emperor because she won a game of roulette, not because she asked to be.”

Mercedes’ throat grew tight at the idea of ten dead children. Hubert sighed, “She was made to be a weapon to fight the church. She has as much agency as a relic. Appearing alive but fully at the mercy of those who wield her. She is trying to create a world where no one is used like that again.” He set down his mug and faced Mercedes, “A world where little girls don’t have to run from home so their step fathers do not rape them to make more crests. A world where the crestless are not turned away from their families, their homes. A world where people’s station is not taken to be divine will and thus permanent.”

“I don’t disagree with your vision, but I wish it did not have to be painted in blood,” said Mercedes as she set her mug aside.

“Unfortunately that is the only medium I know how to use,” said Hubert as bitterness ebbed into his words.

Mercedes scooted towards him and took his hands, “I don’t think that’s true. Up until a few months ago you also couldn’t use black magic, and I just watched you heat a kettle without issue.”

“That’s a minor spell, it’s not enough to change the world,” muttered Hubert as Mercedes thumbs kneaded at his gloved knuckles.

“What is a journey if not a series of small steps?” asked Mercedes as she watched him.

His lips twitched but did not smile, “I appreciate your optimistic outlook more than you know, though I oft disagree.”

“At least you’re willing to entertain the conversation,” said Mercedes as she tilted her head. It suggested he could be reasoned with.

Hubert released her hands, “Well I am wide awake.” He picked up a book, “I should get back to work.” He paused and gave her a quick glance before returning his eyes to his book, “Thank you for your persistence in trying to help me.”

“Anytime,” said Mercedes as she watched him deflect from her and dive back into the distraction of work. “I suppose I can stay up and read another book.” She had only had a little coffee but she found herself uncomfortably alert.

She ended up getting mired in an account of the nature of relics. She’d seen the relic Lamine around her brother’s neck, and here it was theorized to have been removed from a dragon’s orbit. Unfortunately the book was horribly preserved with smudges along the ink. It was difficult to read and practically disintegrating as she read it. _Heroes’ relics have been found that are not linked to the 10 Elites….Could it be that others were gifted this power by the goddess as well? Perhaps the disturbing… that the Relics were not gifts from the goddess_. Mercedes fingers shook as they turned the page to find an abrupt end. The priest writing the account did not want to anger the Goddess by seeking further knowledge. She shut her eyes and wondered if the old her would have stopped too.

At one time everything, good and bad, had seemed to be the Goddess’ will in her eyes. She glanced over at Hubert, absorbed in the book he’d been reading in the Cathedral, and wondered if the circumstances that brought them together were truly random. For the first time, she wished that they weren’t. She wanted this — the books, the late nights, the cooperation between two unlikely allies — to mean something more than two people brought together by the storms of war. She knew she was reaching for daydreams, but she really wanted to pull him away from this course of war and onto a more diplomatic route. Perhaps she only needed to be _persistent_.

Hubert closed his book and took a deep breath as he set it down on the floor. Mercedes set hers aside too, “Are you alright?”

He twisted in his seat so that he could look at her better, “I just don't believe I can handle more of that right now.”

“Perhaps we should stop reading then.” Mercedes gave a look into her empty coffee mug, “I suppose I’m not sleeping tonight am I?”

“You did ask specifically to try the coffee,” said Hubert as he watched her obviously playing with the ribbon in her hair in an attempt to capture his attention. He let out a small sigh. “You know, I did notice your little ribbon signal right away. I just was not in the mood to bring it up earlier.”

“And now? I imagine you’re more awake than I am,” said Mercedes with a small smile.

She watched his eyes crinkle though his smile was barely visible. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll tie you up with this ribbon,” started Mercedes as she let her fingers dance over his hands. She grabbed one wrist and held it tight, “Then ride you like a horse.”

He seemed amused by her suggestion, “I daresay you know little about how horses work in that case.”

She studied his face as she traced her finger along the line of his jaw, “Why don’t you let me find that out?”

He stared at her for a while with a passive expression on his face. For a second she thought he was going to say no, but then he shrugged. “I suppose I should be flattered, no one’s ever been so relentless in an attempt to sleep with me.”

Mercedes smiled, “Well no one’s ever told me I can do _whatever_ I want with them.”

“Shall we to retire to my bedroom?” asked Hubert as he raised a thin eyebrow.

The walk was quiet and cold but at least Hubert did not suggest they walk apart. Mercedes was glad when they got up the stairs to the warm air of the second floor dorm. Hubert routed through his pocket searching for his keys while Mercedes looked around at the quiet hall. It was well past bed time.

“Why don’t you have a doorplate?” The fact that all the doors around his had names upon them but his did not had piqued Mercedes curiosity a year ago when she’d tried to check in on him for missing class.

“Excuse me?” Hubert seemed confused by her question as he rushed to get them both inside his room. He locked the door before even going to light some candles.

Mercedes walked over to his bed and began to get out of her outer layers as Hubert fiddled with the position of his candelabra. “Edelgard, Caspar, and Ferdinand all have little door plates, why don’t you?” asked Mercedes.

“Oh,” sighed Hubert. “I was annoyed that people kept bothering her majesty looking for Caspar and Ferdinand, or even worse, Hilda, so I made up some tags so no one would make that mistake again.”

“And you didn’t make yourself one?” She folded her skirt carefully over his desk chair and made sure her shirt was hanging in a way so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

“No one was looking for my room I assure you,” promised Hubert as he finished arranging the candles in his room. Mercedes was glad he wasn’t insisting on total darkness but she didn’t miss how he strategically cast the shadows towards his bed.

“Oh Mr. Grumplekins,” said Mercedes with delight as the ugly black cat got up come rub against her. “You look well fed.”

Hubert unceremoniously scooped the feline up and deposited him on a ledge just outside his window before shutting it, “He keeps the rats away from this floor, and his name is General Grumple now.”

Mercedes suppressed a laugh at the business-like way he spoke about it, as if he and the cat had gone through quite the negotiation over it. She let her curiosity wash over his bedroom instead. Her room was filled with decorations, extra chairs for entertaining visitors, and plenty of teapots. Hubert’s room looked like a place for sleeping and dressing, and little else. She suspected he slept in his office more often than in here.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, what have you done in bed before?” asked Mercedes as she inspected the strategy books on his shelf.

Hubert was getting out of his boots, “Oh. Nothing special. I um, I’ve slept with a prostitute.” His voice seemed completely indifferent to that fact.

“Oh,” said Mercedes. She supposed that shouldn’t surprise her so much, but it was still unexpected. Mercedes settled into his bed and gestured for him to come join her, “Just one?”

“Yes,” said Hubert. He still had on his pants, and she worried he wasn’t very eager for her.

“What did you do together?” Mercedes ran her knee along the inside of his leg in an attempt to excite him.

“She walked me through the basics, what could go where, what to do to make it good for me until I asked what made it good for her,” said Hubert quietly as his scarred fingers traced shapes upon her arms. “She warned me what diseases looked like, and explained how children were made—”

“Did you not know where babies came from?” Mercedes was shocked.

“I knew, I read books,” said Hubert with a hint of incredulity at her assumption. “However, it’s not really something that’s discussed in much detail with noble boys. Maybe if you have a crest it’s different, because there’s more at stake.”

Mercedes thought of her time on the Bartels’ farm and how she used to have to care for animals. She’d seen the birth of kittens, puppies, foals, little piglets, all before she could read about it in books. “I’d say there’s a human life at stake—”

“I’m very aware,” said Hubert softly as he propped up his head to look at her. “My father bought me that night with a prostitute so that I would not in his words, ‘make the same mistakes he did’, and have a child out of wedlock.”

“Oh, do you have a half sibling too then?” asked Mercedes. It wasn’t something she realized they might have in common.

“Two, a brother and sister. They’re much younger, and I imagine they must hate me for bringing the thing that killed our father into their home,” said Hubert. Mercedes’ eyebrows twitched in confusion as Hubert’s fingers began to knit with hers. “I’m the one born out of wedlock.”

“But you’re a noble,” said Mercedes in increasing confusion. “Who was your mother?”

Hubert just gave her a small sad smile, “A dancer.”

“Like a ballerina?” For better or worse she was now imagining a very sordid backstage affair between a star ballerina and Hubert’s father, who she envisioned as looking just like Hubert.

“No, she wasn’t quite that glamorous I’m afraid,” said Hubert in a subdued voice as he pulled her close.

“What do you mean?” Mercedes’ smile came easily as she kissed his neck. Her fingers slid under his waistband to run along its rim until she reached the buttons that kept his pants on. She undid it for him to spur things along.

He didn’t smile back. “She wasn’t the kind of dancer little girls want to be when they grow up.” He released her so he could shuffle out of his pants and down to his underclothes. His hair hung in his face to obscure his expressions.

Mercedes cocked her head in confusion. Hubert’s mouth drew a grimmer line than usual as he ran his fingers through her hair to gently cradle her head. She watched the bump of his throat bobbing as he swallowed and carefully chose his words. “I am the product of a drunken encounter, very much a mistake. However my father took on the responsibility of raising me,” said Hubert in a wooden voice. “People thought my father did a very honorable thing given the circumstances, and considering that I have no crest.”

She tried to look into both his eyes, “Did she at least get to see you grow up?”

Hubert shook his head, “No, I think she came to my father not long after I was born asking for money. Apparently I look much like her, except for my eyes, and that’s how my father knew I was his.” There was a seed of doubt lodged in Hubert’s tone, and Mercedes wondered if he really believed he was his father’s son. His eyes, such a pale shade of green they almost read gold, were quite distinctive. Hubert’s expression went from grim to forlorn, “So he took me from her and raised me. I asked him once why, and he said it was because I was a reminder that all actions have consequences.” He sighed and let his fingers trace along Mercedes’ side, “Sometimes I think I would have been better off if he’d just left me alone, if he never tried to protect me from my mother’s poverty.”

Mercedes propped up her head with one arm so she could keep looking at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he made the Vestras just like every other noble house, just looking out for their own at the cost of others,” said Hubert. His face was pensive until he composed himself and forced a false smile, “This is not really a pleasant topic.” He grazed his lips along her chin, “Let’s proceed with what you had in mind, yes?”

Mercedes nodded and then lightly kissed him. The kiss she got back surprised her with its force. He was behaving completely differently from the last time they’d met like this. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” asked Mercedes with a teasing smile.

“I apologize for my conduct last time. I have come to realize I want to experience as much as possible with you,” said Hubert as he continued to touch her.

“I see,” said Mercedes as she sat up. She liked how his eyes followed her every move as she worked the long black ribbon free from her hair. Hubert presented his wrists to her. Mercedes could not help but grin as she secured the ribbon around them and gave it a gentle tug, “How does that feel?”

Hubert pulled at the restraint and nodded to her, “That’s fine.”

When she’d finished with arranging the knots, his arms were up above his head. He was so long his feet were practically overhanging the bed. “Can you just struggle a bit to see if it holds?” The ribbon wasn’t really much of a restraint, and she wondered vaguely if he would like being tied up with something more serious. There was a spell that he couldn’t just slip out of, and she longed to cast on him.

Mercedes hadn’t ever wanted to restrain her war monk. Peter had made her feel safe in his arms; Hubert didn’t. Now here she was with him, one of the most fearsome Adrestian mages, tied up in his own bed. The sight made her shiver. Part of her suspected she was drawn to this because of the sheer terror Gerhard von Bartels inspired within her. Her brother may have been the one trained to kill at that place, but Mercedes had hardly escaped her childhood home unscathed. Ribbons, ropes, and magic all allowed her to turn to the tables on men that could otherwise do her harm or use her. It made them safe in her mind.

Hubert indulged her request to pull against the weak restraints, “You know I can procure shackles from the dungeon if you would like.”

Mercedes felt a heat spreading in her chest and face at the suggestion. She averted her eyes from his wrists and pushed her hair back behind her ears. “Let’s see how tonight goes before we do anything like that.” She wasn’t sure if she would like this but if the growing wetness between her legs was any indication, she had a feeling she would take up his offer.

She bit her lip and started to pull down his thin cotton shorts and giggled as she got a full view of him. He’d clearly groomed himself quite throughly since the last time they were together.

“Do you have oil?” she asked as she looked at him but refused to touch him just yet.

He nodded towards his dresser, “Top right.”

“You must trust me to let me go through your stuff like this,” she teased as she opened his drawer and found it extremely sparse. There were boring socks aplenty, and an expensive looking vial of oil that appeared barely used.

“I don’t have anything in here you can’t see,” he said as he watched her continuing to idly dig through his belongings.

“Are you implying you have things I can’t see somewhere else?” She unscrewed the cap and let her fingers get nice and slick.

Hubert was quiet as he watched her walking back to him. “Is this some sort of interrogation?”

Mercedes shrugged as she began to touch him. She waited until he looked nice and peaceful before pulling back his foreskin to focus on the tender head of his cock. His body jerked as she did it, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the over stimulation. Mercedes liked the way she made him squirm, “Maybe.”

“Mercedes, please,” he whispered fervently.

“Oh is this too much?” she asked innocently as she continued.

“You know it is,” he struggled to whisper. “What are you trying to do to me?”

“Anything I want,” said Mercedes as she relaxed and focused on his shaft instead. He sighed with relief that she had moved on. Every couple pumps she would rush back up to his head to surprise him with a jolt of sensation and a giggle at the awful facial expressions he would make. She wanted to do more but this was new to her and new to him, and she didn’t want to do anything too fast.

“Does this feel good?” Her voice, so normally light and airy, got a touch deeper when she felt she was in control. It was the kind of voice she used when issuing directions in the infirmary, but injected with a sultry touch. Hubert was nodding and giving her small yeses like he couldn’t string together a complete sentence. “Do you like it when I take care of you?”

He let out a shuttering breath, and Mercedes’ smile widened. She let her clean hand lightly grace the scar on his torso and the bruises left on him from training, “Ferdinand’s been working you so very hard. How about you just keep laying down and let me do the work?”

“Use me,” he said softly. “Do whatever you want.”

“Oh don’t worry, I will,” said Mercedes as she slowed her stroking. Mercedes carefully wiped her hands clean with one of his many handkerchiefs — they were all little white squares with his initials haphazardly added, by his own hand if she were to guess — and began to get out of her last layers of small clothes. She could feel his eyes on her as the little set of undergarments came off. Finally she settled on top of him. His skin was warm and flush as she teased her hips against his. She felt him give a little twitch as if his cock were trying to remind her of its presence.

“Patience is a virtue,” she whispered as she lightly rubbed against him. She carefully reached down to push his hair out of his face and gave him a warm look, “You look like you haven’t enjoyed anything this much in a long time.” She let her fingers trace down to touch his lips, “You look handsome with your hair back—”

“Stop, please,” muttered Hubert as his eyes grew distant and focused on something in the corner of his room.

“What’s wrong?” Mercedes had felt things were going well.

“The compliments, it, they feel disingenuous,” whispered Hubert. He gave his head a quick shake to get his hair to fall back over his eye. “I know you’re being nice but you don’t have to force it, I understand what I look like.”

Mercedes was quiet as she watched him, “I wasn’t lying, but I can stop. Is there a different way you want me to speak to you?”

“You can keep ordering me around, that I don’t mind,” said Hubert as he looked up at her. “I don’t care if you insult me, just don’t give me empty niceties.”

Mercedes much preferred gentle praise, though she did want him to be satisfied. She rolled her neck as she tried to think of what to say. Her stare fixed on the restraints, “Oh General von Vestra, what an embarrassing situation you’ve gotten yourself into. Disarmed by a healer and tied up in your own bed? What will the soldiers think of you if they find out?”

He said nothing but she swore he got harder as she spoke. Mercedes did her best impression of a sneer, though it felt unnatural on her lips. “Imagine the whispers if people knew how easily you can be controlled. That you _enjoy_ it.” She eased him inside her and adjusted herself atop his body. Hubert’s head had fallen back against his pillow as his eyes squeezed shut. Mercedes put one hand firmly on his chest to steady herself as she started to ride him. She watched as his wrists twitched against the ribbon as she moved. She sensed he wanted to grab her and control her pace, but he was playing by her rules. She slowed way down and felt his hips bucking up as if silently urging her, begging her, to move faster and harder. Well, if that’s what he desired, she was going to have find something to hold onto.

Hubert grunted as she wrapped her hands around the top of his headboard and started to bounce against him. “Yes,” he whispered as she kept up her frantic pace. His head arched back as she lurched forward finding the right position to maximize her own experienced sensation. As soon as she found it she leaned into it, focusing on getting to her own climax. She was vaguely aware of the horrible creaking of the bed as she moved. She decided to just take hers first and to, as he suggested, use him for her own ends.

His body did not disappoint in this position. She hoped she was not hurting him but eventually she stopped thinking about Hubert all together and let herself work up to a peak of her own pleasure. Mercedes shut her eyes as the feelings built up in her, and was only vaguely aware of his sounds as she savored the feeling of this position. She let out a loud moan as she felt a satisfying ripple of release. As Mercedes slowed down the room came back into a soft focus where she realized how loud she was being.

“Sorry,” she murmured reflexively as she felt her cheeks burning.

“Don’t be sorry,” whispered Hubert as he watched her. “Your sounds are _good_.” His eyes were dark his pupils were stretched so wide taking her in.

Mercedes could not help but smile. She was so accustomed to being told to hush and keep quiet. She’d always been made to feel ashamed for her own pleasure. As a teenager she’d always hid away what she was doing to herself out of the sheer mortification at the idea of being caught by her parents. As a young woman she’d been afraid to be seen as too enthusiastic, too wanting. This was a strange freedom in sharp contrast, even though the affair was just as secret.

“I think I’m getting close,” said Hubert between his panting breaths. Mercedes grinned with satisfaction and decided she’d risk a few more hard bounces to really crush him into his mattress. Hubert let out a deep groan which pleased her greatly as she watched his face scrunching up. She found she liked the sounds she was making him let out too. She decided that was as close as she’d risk him being inside her as she slid off and started working him with her hand.

“If you’re waiting for my permission to come, you have it—” suggested Mercedes with a breathless smile as their eyes locked.

There was a sudden pounding at the door. Hubert cursed under his breath as he let himself free of the loose bindings and gently pushed Mercedes off of him. He hurried to grab his pants as the knocking continued. Mercedes wasn’t sure what to do as she pulled the sheet up over herself in a startled shock. Hubert gave her a fleeting look as he blew out the candles, leaving the room in darkness. The pounding had not stopped.

“Hubert, what on earth are you doing in here at this hour?” demanded Edelgard in a hissed whisper. “It sounded like you were moving furniture!”

“My apologies Lady Edelgard,” said Hubert. He had the door barely cracked open as if to hide the fact that he was shirtless and sweating, and sporting an erection in the folds of his pants that he was holding up with one hand.

“Your room was lit when I was knocking, what are you doing in here?” Edelgard seemed extremely annoyed to have been woken up as she attempted to push past Hubert to investigate.

“I promise there will be no more noise,” said Hubert as he blocked her path.

“I just don’t understand what you were up to, you’re not building or breaking something in here are you? It’s the middle of the night!” Mercedes could just make out Edelgard from her limited vantage point. The Emperor had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot as she attempted to peek past him. In her dressing gown and with her hair pinned up for the night she looked ready to conquer dreamland.

“No, I am,” Hubert paused and Mercedes could barely hear him as his voice dropped into a whisper. “I am presently engaging in intimate relations.”

“Oh, oh,” stuttered the Emperor. Mercedes had never heard Edelgard sound so completely flustered. “Who—”

“I would greatly appreciate it if we could have this conversation later,” said Hubert in a quiet voice. The Emperor did not need to be told twice as she turned and quickly got out of there. Hubert shut the door as quietly as possible. He lit a single candle and looked at Mercedes, “I apologize, I knew she wouldn’t stop knocking, but I didn’t expect her to be so insistent on knowing what I was up to.” Frustration bled into his voice.

Mercedes’ heart was still racing from the interaction. Hubert rubbed his face before taking off his pants once more. His erection was leaving and Mercedes had a feeling they weren’t going to get back to where he’d been. He got back into the bed with her, “Right, where were we?”

“Moving furniture I believe,” said Mercedes as she tried to keep her voice quiet. She wondered how Hubert would react to her suggestion that the Emperor had no manners, and covered her mouth to muffle her nervous laugh.

Hubert swiftly took her hand by the wrist and pulled it free to kiss it. “I like when you laugh, please don’t hide it away from me.” He gave a fleeting look to the door, “Well, I think I’ve been caught, although I don’t think Edelgard will be gossiping. She’s probably too embarrassed.”

“I suppose you do have your bed right up against your shared wall,” whispered Mercedes. She cringed picturing Edelgard laying awake and listening to this. She wondered if the Emperor could hear their voices between the walls and if she was aware who was in Hubert’s bed.

“My personal theory is that the beds here are extra loud to discourage student interactions,” sighed Hubert as he shot the bedpost an angry look. He pulled the black ribbon free and looked at Mercedes, “Would you like to try something else?”

“What did you have in mind?” She was curious where he would take things if he was in control of her.

“I learned a spell from your devious book. Come on, off the bed,” said Hubert as he got onto his knees on the floor. Mercedes joined him and felt a building anticipation as he positioned himself behind her. “Put your hands together in prayer,” he whispered. “We’ll have to be extra quiet so as to not disturb the Emperor’s sleep.”

Mercedes waited patiently as he tied her wrists together and then bent her over the bed as if she was doing her nightly prayers. “Are you comfortable?” Mercedes nodded and he lowered himself to kiss her shoulder briefly before sliding his hands down her thighs. His body pressed against hers as his dominant hand circled around her front and swept over the soft curves of her stomach. “I am intrigued by this fascination you have with restraints, and I dare say you have turned me on to something new.” Mercedes felt a smug little grin on her face and hoped he would continue. “I think you like this, and in some ways that makes you afraid.” He rubbed his fingers along her clit in a way that made her squirm. Then he used a spell from the book she’d given him.

Reflexively her wrists tried to break free at the shock of the sudden and intense sensation. The spell seemed to heighten the feeling of every movement and Mercedes wondered if this was how his poor cock had felt when she had been rubbing it with the oil. It was just a step over the line of too far. “You enjoy horror stories because you like the excitement of feeling scared, but you also like feeling safe when you shut the pages.”

What a thing it was to be out of control and at the mercy of another’s magic. Hubert’s breath was warm in her ear as he continued to whisper, “Maybe that’s why you’ve come to me of all the awful people, because you’re seeking out that same type of thrill you get from you silly little books.”

Mercedes let out a little choked moan as she hit a climax before she remembered they were trying to be quiet. Instead Mercedes shut her eyes and her lips as she focused on the feeling he stirred inside her. She was choosing to be here in his embrace, and that did scare her a little. Her excitement at the sensation overrode the insecurity of what it meant to willingly seek him out for this sort of thing.

The hand doing the spell had not let up. She could hear the satisfaction in his voice as his lips brushed against her ear, “Are you enjoying yourself?” Mercedes bit her lower lip and nodded as she felt his gentle nibbling along her neck. His spell died down and his fingers retreated from her. He untied her in silence and passed her back the ribbon.

“Don’t you want to finish?” asked Mercedes as she watched him going to rinse off his hands.

Hubert shook his head. “No. I’ve had a long day, I don’t think I can.” He paused, “Thank you for the distraction, however brief.”

Mercedes played with the satin ribbon as she watched him from his bed. “Would you care to try anything more adventurous next time?” She wondered how far she could push him and what kinds of spells he’d be willing to test out in the bedroom. “You were quite good with that spell.”

Hubert was gently wiping up the excess sweat and oil that lingered on her thighs, “I think we need to discuss another matter first. I don’t plan to tell the Emperor any details, but I did acknowledge I’m having an affair.”

“Are you going to say you’re sleeping with me?” Mercedes wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted him to say. She wasn’t sure what him admitting it would mean for her. She did not see the Emperor suddenly inviting her to tea and them becoming friends.

“I prefer to keep my personal life as private as possible,” said Hubert as he finished cleaning up. He passed her her undergarments as he put on his own fresh pair of shorts.

“Isn’t she your best friend?” challenged Mercedes, even as she was uncomfortably aware that with her own last relationship she had not burdened Annette with any details. She’d always been vague because Annie was so much younger than her, but she supposed in some ways it was the same for Edelgard and Hubert.

Hubert said nothing as he slid back into the bed beside her. “Are you telling your brother?”

“No,” said Mercedes softly. She was only now getting Emile to open up about mundane things, and they did not discuss personal matters like this. She finished buttoning her underclothes and let her head rest along Hubert’s chest. “We should find somewhere more private to meet,” whispered Mercedes. “My room is too cold, yours is too noisy. Your office furniture isn’t really suitable for much more than reading and perhaps kissing.”

Hubert hummed in agreement. “I suppose I can stand the cold, we’ll just have to make a lot of heat.” Anticipation coursed through her as she wondered what they might do for their next meeting. Hubert was watching her closely, “Will you stay here, just for a little?”

“Of course,” said Mercedes as she caressed his chin. She could barely believe he was inviting her to cuddle. “Do you want to talk at all?”

“No, I just don’t wish to be alone with my thoughts right now,” whispered Hubert.

He was just laying limp beside her and so with a sigh Mercedes pulled his arms around her. “Do you mind if I show you how I like to be held?” Hubert became rigid for a moment before he allowed her to begin to manipulate his body around hers.

“Consider me your student,” he whispered as she settled into the most comfortable crook of him she could find. He had much to learn but Mercedes was willing to take the time to teach him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knock knock, interrupting Emperor, interrupting Emperor-- "WHO BERT?!" 
> 
> I wasn't planning for this to be a LONG long fic, nor did I expect to be writing this over the course of 8+ months (I didn't expect a lot of things that happened this year though...) so thank you for sticking around for 200k words! We are nearly at a midway transition point (plot wise, the 2nd half will be faster paced as they get back into battling).


	34. Inner Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert and Edelgard have a revealing tea time, Felix chooses a side, and Mercedes flexes her magic skills in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a sex scene, with a twist! (see end A/N for spoiler if you dare)

Hubert arrived early to the common room where all of the busts and imperial portraits were still set up. He was meeting Edelgard for what was sure to be an interesting and perhaps awkward tea time, but instead he found Felix snooping around. “Can I help you with something?” asked Hubert as he watched Fraldarius examining a portrait. Hubert’s temper was shorter than usual and he was running on very little sleep.

“Is this the Emperor and her mother?” Felix pointed towards the official consort portrait of Anselma.

“Yes, that would the Emperor as a child with her parents, why?” Hubert could not help the prickle entering his voice. He was sure Felix’s question had to do with Edelgard’s change in appearance. In the portrait the princess had light brown hair that matched her father’s and a big smile, neither of which were present now.

Felix turned back and looked again, “And the emperor and her mother both had _brown_ hair?” Anselma’s had been much darker than Edelgard’s light brown hair, but indeed neither were natural blonds.

“Lady Edelgard’s hair lightened in her teens, it happens,” said Hubert knowing full well that did not happen normally.

Felix clearly did too as he gave Hubert a shrewd once over. “And what happened to her mother?”

Hubert frowned at how excessively nosy Felix was being “She fled the empire in late 1170, no one knows what became of her,” said Hubert. That was in fact the truth. He’d turned up no leads in his grandfather’s journals. It was as if she just disappeared. “Why, do you recognize her?” Felix turned a particular shade of white at the sarcastic question. Hubert’s eyes narrowed as he repeated himself, more seriously this time, “Do you recognize her?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Felix in a huff.

“So what are you doing in here then?” Hubert folded his arms and gave Felix a long stare to see if Fraldarius would crack.

“Just looking, what is that not allowed? It’s the _common_ room,” said Felix as he folded his arms right back to match Hubert glare for glare.

Hubert sighed, he was getting nowhere with this useless conversation. His eyes traced over to make contact with the bust of Wilhelm the first, “Before you go, will you humor me, does this remind you of anyone?”

Felix studied the bust and then shrugged, “I don’t know, Jeralt?”

Hubert cringed internally; it seems Edelgard’s assertion of the resemblance wasn’t completely unbelievable. That paired with Wilhelm’s alleged immortality suddenly made the idea not crazy at all. “Thank you, now please leave, I have a meeting with the Emperor beginning any minute.”

Felix did not delay in getting out of there ahead of Edelgard’s arrival. Edelgard was perfectly professional as her servants prepared their tea, though Hubert could see the curiosity burning in her eyes as to what they had come together to discuss. He’d been holed up in his office since the late night incident, but he could only avoid her for so long. He would just have to distract her with juicier details than his intimate relations to get through this.

“So, were you ever planning on telling me that you are having an affair?” asked Edelgard after the room cleared and the doors were closed.

“No,” said Hubert with blunt honesty.

Edelgard looked hurt, “Well why not?”

Hubert picked at the dainty little tea sandwiches that had been served. He supposed this would be his late lunch before he got back to his office to read more, “I did not think it worthy of your attention.”

“I would say it is, I want to know who you’ve finally opened your heart up to,” started Edelgard.

He wasn’t sure why he felt such dread at her words so he scoffed to hide any tells. “Obviously my heart belongs to you alone, my lady.”

Edelgard sighed and rolled her eyes at him, “Please.”

Hubert folded his hands on the table to stop them from fidgeting, “It’s not romantic. It’s purely physical for her.”

“Ah, a _her_ , interesting,” said Edelgard as she gave him a measured stare. He regretted even saying that much. “Are you insinuating it’s not purely physical for you?”

At the risk of being too transparent, Hubert simply nodded. It was something he’d been rolling about in his mind since this whole attraction started; he could no longer deny that he liked Mercedes quite a bit through and through. She was peculiar in her tastes and in her manner, apparently enough so that there was room for someone like him in her bed. She was also comforting by nature, and even if she would never feel the same way towards him, she was still kind to him. That was enough crumbs of affection for Hubert to gather up. “I would like to experience what it’s like to be with another person, even if it’s not love, at least once before I die.”

There was silence between them before Edelgard diverted her eyes to the sandwiches as she selected one for her plate, “That’s an awful thing to say.”

“It’s the truth,” said Hubert as he stared at his friend. “I cannot give myself to someone, not fully, because I’ve already given my life to you and your path.”

Edelgard studied him from her chair with a resigned look, “If it came down to dying for me or living, Hubert, I don’t want you to hesitate. Choose your own life.”

Hubert said nothing in response because he did not like making false promises to her. “I don’t have regrets about any of it. I gladly pledge my life to you, but, I just,” Hubert felt a lump unexpectedly forming in his throat as he contemplated what he wanted to say. “I don’t enjoy spending every night of my life alone, and it’s been pleasant to pretend that another person would choose to be with me.” Truly, it was a relief to have someone to talk to for whom he did not need to be strong and sure at all times like with Edelgard. Mercedes was easy to be with at the end of a long day, whether they were merely taking tea or engaging something sensual. She listened, she touched, and most importantly she challenged him to think of things from another perspective.

“Hubert,” whispered Edelgard as she reached out one of her hands to cover his.

Hubert forced his feelings away as he withdrew his hands, “And that is why I do not wish to talk about it. I promise I will not let this interfere with my duties. If you think it has I will cut things off.” He knew he was no longer able to objectively assess his behavior when it concerned this affair, but it was promise that if Edelgard thought he was too involved he would stop.

“It’s not my place to control your private life,” said Edelgard. “Though I do have one request.” Hubert’s body tense as he predicted she was about to demand the identity of his lover. However, Edelgard surprised him with her words, “I think you owe yourself more than a pretend affair.”

“Excuse me?”

“I understand your desires, and I have my own similar feelings that I do not feel like I can act upon in good conscience,” said Edelgard as she began to add a small amount of cream and sugar to her tea. She stared at it as she carefully stirred the beverage with a spoon as delicate as her tone. “But you’re a little more free than I am, and so I wish that you were with someone who could give you a real experience, not something fake and passing,” said Edelgard quietly. She took a sip of tea and looked saddened by the conversation. “It’s like in school and watching you with the others, you seemed much happier than I’d seen you in a long time. I wished I could watch you live out that kind of life, giving love and receiving it back, instead of this war.”

Hubert hated that his cheeks burned at her comment, “I assure you this the nature of this arrangement is more suited to me than some storybook romance.” Ending this conflict on Edelgard’s terms was his path, and it was one he suspected had a dead end. Daydreaming of what could be might weaken his resolve, and he was not interested in that. Hubert deftly changed the topic away from his non-existent love life, “I have other matters that are more important for your attention. I need to know what your father told you of the Hresvelg’s family history, even the details he might not have wanted anyone else to know.”

Edelgard looked perplexed by the turn of the conversation, “I don’t follow. It’s all available in books, it’s hardly a secret.”

“Alright then, who was Emperor Lycaon’s mother?” asked Hubert as he searched Edelgard’s face for any hint of recognition of what he was really asking.

“One of too many unnamed consorts I’m sure. I swear the historians barely recorded any woman’s name from those days,” said Edelgard, her voice full of bite.

Hubert knit his fingers together as his stomach twisted, “What if I told you it was Seiros?”

The air flashed with the twisting bright crest of flames as Edelgard snapped her teacup she was clutching it so hard. Immediately she got up apologizing and her front was soaked with tea.

Hubert quickly grabbed a cloth napkin and began to help mop up the mess. “I am sorry about the teacup, I should have prepared you better to hear that.”

“Hubert you don’t have to apologize when I break something, I just lost control briefly,” said Edelgard as a flush rose up her neck. “I know your sense of humor skews strange, but this is not a funny joke,” said Edelgard finally as she composed herself.

Hubert looked up at her, knowing full well the sleepless nights spent reading were leaving dark lines beneath his eyes. This was no joke. He pursed his lips, “I have multiple sources suggesting a romantic link between Wilhelm and Seiros, and then a outright claim that she was Lycaon’s mother.”

“Do you trust these accounts?” Edelgard’s violet eyes were filled with something he wasn’t used to seeing directed towards him, suspicion.

“I do.” He began to dig through a portfolio of notes to produce his best guess at a family tree, “What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room.”

“Obviously,” said Edegard as she returned to her seat.

He passed her the paper, “Wilhelm was married to a woman, I did not find her name, and had a daughter before the empire was founded. That daughter grew up and had a child, that would be my ancestor, Vestra. He is the primary source of this information.” Hubert had read through all the maddening secrets held in his ancestor’s memoir. He was forming a very interesting picture of the early conflict of the Nabateans and the Agarthans, and what he was beginning to see was that Seiros was a much more cunning politician than her religion would suggest. “Allegedly the Vestras descend from Macuil himself.”

Edelgard’s eyes were glued to the paper. Hubert took a deep breath, “As far as I can tell, Seiros grew interested in the potential of mixing with humans, which I’ve gleaned was extremely taboo for their kind. She and Wilhelm married and had Lycaon, who was apparently the first mixed nabatean to get a crest of Seiros. He aimed to be an eternal emperor, which Seiros fully supported.”

“Of course, who better to rule than her own progeny?” sighed Edelgard as she let the paper sit up on the table. Edelgard’s gaze was heavy, “And did Vestra have the crest of Macuil?”

Hubert shook his head, “Apparently to get it into a human bloodline there needs to be a ritual performed—”

“I am familiar,” said Edelgard with ice in her voice as her eyes grew distant.

“Of course,” whispered Hubert as he wished he had phrased things differently. He looked at the bust of Wilhelm, “Wilhelm was described as forty five when he received his crest and stopped aging entirely. Apparently Vestra and Lycaon were similarly long lived. Therefore, I think you might be onto something about a connection of Jeralt and Wilhelm. This would make Byleth, _something_.”

“A very great uncle,” said Edelgard as if she was having trouble catching her breath. She got up and began to pace with one hand over her heart. “If all of this is true, then Kronya’s actions no longer seem so random. If he was Wilhelm, he essentially helped Seiros take over Fodlan.” Edelgard paused as a disturbed expression crossed her face, “Byleth’s mother was some sort of experiment who married Jeralt. He must have known what she was, and he’d be so much older than her. What a twisted web.”

Hubert cleared his throat and held up his hands, “I’m doing my best to untangle it. Jeralt left behind a journal, I suppose I must read that next.”

“Perhaps some secrets are best left undisturbed,” whispered Edelgard. “You must think me silly, but Byleth and Jeralt are dead, maybe it is best to let them rest.”

“I don’t think you’re silly,” said Hubert. He found her anything but. However, that journal was possibly important and he would be reading it, with permission or not.

Edelgard stole his untouched tea and slowly savored it. Finally she set her violet stare on him, “Why are you telling me all this now?”

“Because I think it’s important that you know,” said Hubert. “I’ve only just discovered most of this information. I wanted to verify things before I shared them. I did not wish to needlessly burden you with anything.”

Edelgard rubbed her temples, “Well, it hardly matters. So Rhea is my great, great, and so on, great grandmother. What of it? She’s still a scourge on Fodlan and needs to step down.”

“I agree. I feel similarly about the Vestras and Macuil, it feels like a fairytale not my family history,” said Hubert with a little forced disdain. “I just think it is important that we stay ahead of any information that might come out of the church. The more we know the less they can use against us.”

“Have you dug up any more information on my uncle?” asked Edelgard in a quiet voice.

“Little bits and pieces. I know his name now, his real name, and it’s only a matter of time before I discover his weaknesses,” promised Hubert. He yearned to pick Arundel apart and dissect out every lurid little detail so that he could fully scrub away that stain masquerading as a person.

Edelgard spared him a small yet vicious smile, “Excellent. Keep up your good work, but when you’re celebrating your little research discoveries please try keep it down at night, some of us do like sleeping.” Hubert felt his jaw clench as Edelgard smirked at his expression. He and Mercedes definitely would not be using his room again.

***

Felix glared at the snow flurry as it landed on his nose. He had actually paid attention to the weather this time before trekking out, and today it did not seem like the sky was going to open up and dump ice upon him. He figured the cold cave crew needed more food by now unless Ingrid’s appetite had suddenly changed.

The cave was extremely quiet as Felix made some extra noise to declare his presence. “It’s me, keep stupid Luin out of my face this time.” Ingrid appeared at the mouth of the shelter and offered him a hand up. Felix peered around and saw no one else, “Where’s the boar and his hound?”

Ingrid’s fist slammed into the side of his arm, “Don’t call them that, and they’re out.”

“Out where?” demanded Felix as he looked out at the silent forest. It was afternoon and he could see for miles. Things were completely still with no sign of Dimitri or Dedue.

Ingrid shrugged, “Dimitri’s getting, um, _anxious_ about fighting, so he goes on patrol hoping to find someone. Dedue accompanies him to keep him safe.”

Felix was just glad he hadn’t run into them as he sloughed off his pack of stolen food. “Here, I hope you like beets.”

“You know if you keep coming out here you’re going to wear a trail that leads straight to us,” said Ingrid with dismay as she looked out from where he had come from. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to choose a side and stick with it.”

Felix looked up and met her stare. He’d been thinking about this ever since Dimitri revealed that he and Edelgard shared a mother, and that the Emperor was working with the very people who had killed Glenn. “I know.” Felix took a deep breath, “I followed up, and Patricia was definitely Edelgard’s mother, I confirmed in a portrait. She changed her hair but it was definitely her. I’ve been looking into a lot of things, and everything I find the worse it gets.” Ingrid paled at the news. Felix rubbed the spot where she had hit him, “I’m defecting, but I don’t want to sit in this cave as the war rages. I want to go home, with all of you.”

“I want that too,” said Ingrid quietly.

“So I’ve been thinking I can steal some horses, and then we’ll ride for Fhirdiad,” said Felix. It would be a huge risk, but it would be worth it to get away from the Imperial army and back on track for fighting for something he could get behind. He declined to elaborate out loud what he wanted to do to every dark mage he saw creeping about the monastery, but it was becoming clear he could not stand to stay.

“You don’t even like horses,” said Ingrid with a frown. “Dedue isn’t going to get on a horse—”

“It’s a work in progress,” said Felix with frustration. He was well aware he’d have a hell of a time trying to steal one horse let alone four.

“We’ll never convince Dimitri to leave,” whispered Ingrid as if the prince might overhear from wherever he presently was.

“That’s where Mercedes comes in,” said Felix, though he hadn’t asked her yet. “I’ll offer her chance to come with us, and even if she won’t, you know she’s good for sleeping draughts.”

Ingrid looked less than amused, “You’re planning to drug Dimitri all the way back to Fhirdiad?”

Felix folded his arms and frowned, “Well do you have a better idea?”

Ingrid shook her head, “I guess that’s a plan then. How do we keep him on one of these hypothetical horses?”

“We’ll figure it out,” grumbled Felix as he imagined rigging up some straps. “Maybe I’ll steal a cart or something. A sled, I don’t know.”

“Felix,” started Ingrid with hesitation thick in her voice.

“What?” snapped Felix as he braced for a critique of his less than detailed scheme.

“I’m glad you’re back,” said Ingrid with a small smile. Honestly, Felix was glad too. He’d never made much of a place for himself within the Imperial army and now he knew for sure he couldn’t do that. Out here, these were his people, whether he liked it or not, and he was just grateful they would take him back.

They would leave in a week, Ingrid would work on convincing Dimitri, and Felix would work on securing supplies. He knew in his heart it wasn’t enough time, but the longer they lingered here, the greater the chance they’d be caught.

Back at Garreg Mach, Felix did his best to sell his plan to Mercedes as they met in her room. “This all sounds very risky,” said Mercedes softly as she played with the fringed ends of her blanket.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” asked Felix.

Mercedes bit her lip and shook her head no. “I can _borrow_ some sleeping potions from the infirmary for you, but I’m not sure I can make enough to possibly get you all the way to Fhiridad. When I used the concoction on Dimitri he woke up very quickly. I think his crest caused it not to be very effective.”

Felix frowned, “Do you know a good sleeping spell—”

“That trip takes weeks normally, and in the snow it will be longer. I don’t think it’s safe to keep him sedated that long,” said Mercedes with a worried tone.

Felix folded his arms and sighed knowing that she made a good point. “How about you sew up a big sack and we’ll just toss him in?”

Mercedes let out a giggle despite the seriousness of the situation. “Excellent plan.”

Felix swallowed uncomfortably as he watched her; she had not asked to come along at any point when he was explaining. “Are you going to stay here?”

Mercedes returned his stare and then nodded, “I lost my brother once, I’m not interested in losing him again.”

“You don’t need to explain that to me,” said Felix softly. He knew full well he’d do the same if Glenn magically appeared among the Empire’s ranks, but Glenn was dead because these Adrestian bastards had killed him.

Mercedes looked like she might cry as she forced a brave face, “Will you tell Annie hello for me when you see her again? I know she won’t understand why I’ve stayed but, I need to do this.”

“I’ll give her a hug,” said Felix. “Only because that’s what you would do if you were there, obviously,” he added in a rush. “If she’ll even talk to me that is.”

Mercedes reached out to squeeze Felix’s hand, “I think she’ll give you a second chance.” She winked, “Maybe not a third though so don’t mess up.”

Felix squeezed her hand back, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope we never meet again. I don’t want to fight you.” Mercedes smiled, but said nothing and Felix understood the silence. They didn’t know what their futures would hold, they just knew they would not be together.

***

Mercedes had finished yet another mercifully uneventful patrol. Felix would leave tomorrow, and Mercedes merely had to divert her and her brother as far as possible from where her friends were meeting in the meantime. She had made a stock pile of enough sleeping draughts to knock out a demonic beast, and then doubled it just to ensure Dimitri would be subdued. She would be saying some extra prayers for them to ensure the plan would be a success even if she was in the dark as to what exactly they were doing. Stealing horses was conspicuous, and so that had been nixed, and Felix had made a vague allusion to sleds. Either way they would be gone soon enough and Mercedes would not longer have to worry that Jeritza would find them.

In deciding to stay, Mercedes was committing to a path walked with her brother. It was an easy decision even though she knew this was a route soaked in blood. It meant she might meet the others someday but as enemies. Mercedes forced herself to be at peace with that. She’d lost her brother for almost fifteen years, she wasn’t about to lose him again even though her heart knew this came at a high cost.

Jertiza usually disappeared right after they returned their weapons to the armory following a patrol, but today Mercedes had a special favor to ask of him, “Um, do you mind coming to my room?”

“Excuse me?” She could see the reluctance within his eyes, and it pained her that she was having such trouble getting him to be close to her once more.

“I was hoping you’d help me cut my hair,” said Mercedes softly. It had grown almost down to her navel in the last year, and was in a serious need for a trim.

“I’m not sure that is a wise idea,” said Jertiza. A deft no.

“Please? It would mean so much to me if you would help me with this, I’m not sure who else to ask,” said Mercedes. She could easily ask Dorothea, though the singer seemed likely to tell her how lovely it looked long. She knew Bernadetta would be too fretful over messing it up, and Ferdinand was likely take forever trying to make things perfect.

Jeritza made a disgruntled noise but stopped his protesting. Mercedes beamed as she led him to her room. She found her fabric shears and presented them to him, “I’d like it to my chin please.”

Through the mirror she could see him inspecting the blades, “These are very sharp.”

“Yes, I keep them as sharp as possible, it’s best for clean cuts in the fabric,” said Mercedes.

“They’re practically a weapon,” said Jeritza, drawing out his words.

She swallowed as she felt one of his hands lifting her hair and the other running the cool metal along her exposed neck for no apparent reason. Mercedes froze as she maintained a stare with him. This wasn’t really about her hair; this was about whether or not he could see that he wouldn’t hurt her given the opportunity. She knew he wouldn’t, she just had to convince him of that. The distance between them was put there by her brother, and Mercedes was desperate to close it.

Then he snipped. Long golden locks tumbled down towards the floor. One of Jeritza’s eyebrows raised, “Is this satisfactory to you?”

It was a basic blunted bob. Mercedes smiled, “Yes, perfect.” She held out her hand for the scissors and Jeritza hesitated for a beat before presenting the handles to her. Mercedes began to give herself some bangs, “I’ve wanted short hair for a while, I just never felt brave enough to let go of my long locks.”

“And why are you so brave now?”

“Because I have you again,” said Mercedes as she paused her snipping to catch his eye. “I feel like for the first time in my life I’m in charge of my destiny, and it doesn’t include long hair!” She declined to mention that she was also feeling a surge of confidence thanks to the way Hubert looked at her. Even when they were far apart she would catch him staring from time to time across the dining hall. It filled her with a rush to make him squirm in his seat or break eye contact when she would purposefully take long sensuous bites of whatever she was eating.

Here now with her hair short was how she wished to look, and she nervously hoped that Hubert would still be ravenous for her. If he wasn’t, well then he wasn’t worth her time. She didn’t _need_ him, even if she did like having him around.

“Alright your hair is cut, I should go,” said Jeritza as he started to leave.

“Wait, wait, do you want to take tea? I made some cookies just for you,” said Mercedes as she practically threw herself between her brother the door.

Jeritza stared and then took a deep breath as he pulled up a chair. Mercedes smiled as she grabbed her tin of recently baked cookies and passed them to him, “Do you remember how mother used to make these?”

Jeritza bit one in half and chewed with his eyes shut as Mercedes used magic on her kettle. After Jeritza had finished one, then two, and eventually three cookies he nodded, “I remember these.”

“She got the recipe from my father’s family,” said Mercedes off handedly. Eating them was like reaching back in time and creating a connection to someone she’d never met. She didn’t know what her father looked like, only that he was apparently extremely kind, but she imagined he loved these cookies as much as she did. She pictured her mother young and baking up these sweets for him and falling in love. It was one of her most pleasant daydreams.

This tea time, however, was far better than a daydream because it was real. She could scarcely believe she had her brother here in her room, eating cookies and sipping honeyed fruit blend like when they were children. While watching him she wished with all her heart that he had come to Fhirdiad with her and her mother, consequences be damned. He was a different person now, but she was determined to get to know him as well as she had. That meant knowing him as he was, not as she imagined him to be.

“Do you mind that I call you Emile? I suppose I never asked what you prefer. If you chose Jeritza for yourself, for reasons other than just hiding, I want to respect that,” blurted out Mercedes.

Jeritza stared at her in confusion, “Emile, Jeritza, these are just names. It does not matter to me. If you wish to call me Emile, then call me Emile.”

“Oh good, thank you,” said Mercedes as relief spread through her. If she was being honest she much preferred his real name to the made up one.

“You are the only person who knows me from before the,” he stopped his sentence abruptly and forced a sip of tea. “You alone may call me Emile, that is what I am trying to say.”

“You know you can tell me what happened between before and after,” whispered Mercedes.

Jertiza silently inhaled a few more cookies. “I was taken from my father, it was supposed to be a punishment. The place they took me was worse than home, but it was survivable. I learned to fight, and then I served as a knight under the command of some Adrestian military dark mage. I did his bidding, and then I was sent home to wait for the war. I believe I was supposed to play the good noble heir, I did not.”

“How did you get from trial for execution to, well, here at Garreg Mach?” She had so many more questions about the dark mages and where he had been, but Mercedes was learning that to talk to Emile one had to just go with the flow of the conversation. If he wanted her to know he would tell her in time.

“Edelgard was to sign the order for my execution, but she was informed I was a valuable asset. She wanted me to be her combat instructor,” said Jeritza. His eyes grew downcast as he watched his teacup.

“You were the Emperor’s personal instructor?” asked Mercedes.

“Yes, in Enbarr. I took a new name to distance myself from the murders,” said Jeritza. “And then I came here to be close to her.”

“Oh are you friends?” The idea of it warmed her heart that he had a least one friend in the years they were apart.

Jeritza frowned slightly as he sucked in a deep breath, “Yes, friends, you could call it that. We understand things about each other that few others have survived to know.”

Mercedes found her response dying in her throat. She sipped her tea instead as she wondered what things he was talking about. Jertiza finished his tea and then polished the cookies off. “Thank you for the refreshments, they were very quenching.”

“Oh do you have to go already?” Mercedes scrambled to get up as he began to excuse himself.

“Indeed, but we may do this again I suppose,” said Jeritza with a stiff bow.

Mercedes smiled, “Of course. You know you can come by my room any time. If I’m running late to a patrol again you can always come make me hurry up!” It was hard to get out of the bed in the dead of winter when her sheets were so cozy. She was also attempting to delay them at every turn so their patrols would be less productive, but he did not need to know that.

“Very well,” said Jeritza in lieu of a farewell. Mercedes was left alone once more, though she knew in a few hours she other plans with another man. She and Hubert were finally going to try out some advanced spellwork.

Hubert arrived promptly for their prearranged eleven o’clock meeting time. He insisted on knocking in a code, though Mercedes doubted anyone else was coming by at such an hour. She answered the door in nothing but her most scanty little robe over some choice undergarments. She delighted in the way he scampered into the room to shut the door behind them lest anyone see. Their bodies pressed together as his hands traced up to her waist and his eyes fixed on her new hair cut.

“What do you think?” asked Mercedes with a grin.

Hubert’s fingers came up to comb through her hair on either side of her head. He tipped her chin up, “It’s very daring.”

Mercedes felt a blush spreading in her cheeks. She was sure no one had ever described Mercedes von Martritz as daring, “I always left it long because I was told to. Now I’ve decided I’d like more control.”

One of Hubert’s eyebrows rose as he smirked, “Speaking of which, what should I be doing?”

“Get out of all your clothes,” ordered Mercedes with delight. As Hubert stripped down, Mercedes discarded her robe to reveal her navy thigh highs and the little harnesses that kept them up. She had Hilda’s too tight pink bustier as well. That with her puffy knickers made for quite the visual. It wasn’t as glamorous as the drawings of the lovely looking mages in _Bedchamber Black Magic_ , but it was as close as she could get with the items she had on hand. Perhaps her summer sewing project to pass time while on the front lines would have to be something more intimately tailored to her. She had a feeling Hubert wouldn’t mind. Her attention wandered as she considered what their affair would look like so near the battlefield.

Hubert paged through the book searching out her bookmarks, “So what did you wish to do?”

Mercedes took the book off of him and found the page of a dark magic spell to show him, “What do you say to trying out Minos’ Judgment?”

Hubert paled as he looked at the illustration of the woman of the receiving end of the spell. Her limbs were sprawled out and tied to each bed post while something shadowy passed inside her. The caster sat across the room fully clothed and watching. “I do not know if dark magic is something I feel comfortable casting on you.” He looked closely at the spell formula and frowned, “I don’t want to use it if I don’t know how it feels myself.”

“What if I try it first on you?” suggested Mercedes. She expected him to say no right away.

“You feel confident enough to do a dark magic spell?” asked Hubert. Mercedes nodded. Hubert looked again at the formula, “I suppose I’ve never seen anything like this, but it’ll at least be educational if nothing else.” He paused and passed her the book, “I believe I can handle whatever you’ll cast at me. I,” he paused and then straightened his posture, “I trust you.”

Mercedes couldn’t help her smile at his words. She knew it wasn’t easy for him to concede control over to her like this, and she appreciated the way in which he was playing along with these new experiences. “May I try the restraining spell first?” asked Mercedes. There were several and she wanted to try out the more ambitious of them to see what exactly they did. The book was very detailed in the spell formulas and instructions but severely lacking in descriptions of what the spells actually felt like. Honestly it only added to the thrill of trying them out.

“Certainly,” said Hubert as he arranged himself on her bed, “What do I do?”

“You do nothing,” said Mercedes as she focused on her tome. She took a deep breath and cast the spell.

Hubert’s body went totally limp as he slumped backward. She could hear a small amount of distress blurring into his breathing. Mercedes eyes widened as she took in how completely motionless his limbs were, “Talk to me Hubert, what are you able to do?” She could feel him subtly fighting at it, as if he were gently pressing upon her concentration and attempting to break it. Yet this was a hex and he couldn’t do anything until she properly removed it.

He managed to get out a small and panicked sound before she saw the rise and fall of his chest calming down, “I can talk, I can breathe.”

“Good, anything else?” asked Mercedes as she came over to inspect his body.

“I can move my neck a bit,” said Hubert as he demonstrated, “But everything else is just, there’s nothing.” He seemed to be adjusting from his initial shock of almost all of his control of his own body being taken away.

Mercedes picked up his arm and let it flop upon the bed. “Can you feel it when I touch you?”

“Yes, and everything feels heightened,” said Hubert with a quiver to his voice as Mercedes’ hand ran along his exposed torso. Mercedes let her fingertips trace down to the crease of his hip, and then she tickled him. Hubert’s face contorted, “Don’t please, don’t.”

“Are you ticklish?” asked Mercedes with an exaggerated sense of innocence as she arranged his legs on the bed. She let one finger trace down the sole of his foot. Normally someone would jerk away from such a thing but Hubert could barely move his head, let alone his foot.

“Most people are ticklish, stop it now,” said Hubert between suppressed laughs. They did not sound joyful though, he sounded in pain.

Mercedes nodded and decided to move up to his cock. She began to stroke it, and nothing happened at all. “Hmm, does this feel nice?” asked Mercedes as her brows knit at how flaccid he remained.

“It feels fine but, I don’t think anything can happen,” said Hubert as he watched her. It was all he could do. This was not what she’d been expecting.

Mercedes grabbed the book and read the instructions again, “Oh no, this one must just motor paralysis from the neck down. There’s a more complicated one that just knocks out your arms and legs—”

“What’s the purpose of this spell?” He was sounding less enthused the longer he stayed unmoving.

“I believe the end goal is that I sit on your face and you can’t do anything about it except eat me out until I’m satisfied enough to release you,” said Mercedes with a chuckle. “I don’t know about this one though, you’re a little too limp for my tastes.” She focused on removing the hex and Hubert rapidly came to sit up. He shook out his hands and wiggled his toes as if to double check there were no lingering effects.

“I don’t need to be paralyzed to do that,” said Hubert as he let his hand rest on her thigh.

Mercedes brushed his fingers away, “No touching, remember you’re my prisoner tonight, there are rules.” The rules were whatever they made up as they went along. Before he could say anything in response she cast unseen shackles upon his hands. Hubert’s wrists snapped together behind his back.

She could feel him subtly fighting this spell too. “May I have a warning next time?” asked Hubert with a hint of annoyance as he winced.

“If you’re good,” teased Mercedes with a wink. She kept studying the pages. “Get on your knees on the floor please.” Hubert obeyed and Mercedes circled around him with her hand running between his shoulders. He looked up at her as she gently messed about with his hair. “I think we’re ready to have some fun now.” Mercedes took a seat on one of her many chairs and took a deep breath, “I’m going to try that dark magic spell. If it hurts, or you change your mind, just say so and I’ll stop.”

Hubert nodded. “I’m sure I can handle whatever you’ll do, don’t hold back,” insisted Hubert. His gaze upon her had grown increasingly intense as he waited for her to cast the dark magic spell upon him.

Mercedes shut her eyes as she tried to bring herself into the mindset she needed to cast the spell. It was an interesting view to see him both exposed and restrained, and watching her with trust in his eyes. As she cast, Hubert’s knees started to spread apart as something dark and pooling on the floor began to take form. He watched it in silence as creeping inky black fingers traced up his thighs. Mercedes maintained the restraining spell, although she was growing mesmerized by the shape rising up from the darkness. It looked like just like her, down to her new haircut, but formed from the void.

“What does it feel like?” asked Mercedes as she stared at the thing taking a more and more defined shape.

Hubert squirmed as the projection continued to grow, “It feels like something warm and wet climbing up me.”

Mercedes was glad it was warm, dark magic felt like ice to her but perhaps it only depended upon the person casting the spell. Mercedes concentrated on controlling the dark mass and experimented with having it climb more on his left side and then his right. Once she was satisfied she understood how it behaved she began urging it upward. The shadowy version of herself settled behind him and rested it’s chin along his clavicle. Hubert’s eyes shut as dark lips brushed along his neck and small inky tendrils began to weave up from the pool of shadows that surrounded him.

Mercedes willed the shadow to run it’s hands along his jaw and then down his torso. _I wonder if he’ll like_ — Inside her head her thoughts were interrupted by something cold and intrusive, but almost familiar, _You could kill him right now_. The face of the shadow seemed to be staring at her as she listened.

Here he was, the very person who signed her orders of conscription to this cause that she was not on board with. She could end him here and now, it would be easy. Inside her head the chilling voice continued, _He deserves to suffer like he’s made Fodlan suffer_. Hubert’s breathing was tense and quickening as the darkness began to wind around his penis. It seemed to be slowly simulating him and arousing him though there was the slightest hint of distress in his breathing.

He tore his eyes away from the bubbling spell to stare at her ceiling instead. Mercedes watched the darkness circling round his hips. She willed it to snake along his posterior and then permitted it to go within him. Hubert let out a choked noise as it happened and Mercedes allowed the shadows to begin poking around. It was like she could direct it within him and urged it forward. The sight was strange but hypnotizing as she watched the way his chest flushed at her motions. He was completely surrendered to her control and his euphoria was also hers thanks to the spell. As she urged the dark projection on she began to feel his arousal manifesting in her, and the farther she went into him, the stronger it felt.

She saw Hubert’s mouth moving but she heard nothing as she continued to work him. _Make him hurt_ , said the voice in her head. It was speaking a little louder now. Mercedes shook her head slightly trying to dispel the thoughts as dark as the entity pooling on her floor. It was moving faster as it continued to climb up inside Hubert. The voice began to cackle and Mercedes realized it was not entirely a product of her own mind, but something else entirely. It was something that seemed strengthened within her as she cast this spell.

A tremor rattled through Hubert’s body as his head lurched forward, “Mercedes _please_ stop.” Tears were beginning to leak from his eyes as his jaw clenched in pain. She lost control of the darkness and was barely holding onto the restraining spell. She let his hands free as she shot up from her chair and tried to get rid of the dark magic spell.

It did not dissipate as Hubert attempted to break free of the entity. “Oh no,” whispered Mercedes as the darkness fully enveloped Hubert’s legs and started to pull him towards the space beneath her bed. It looked like the void itself was trying to swallow him and pull him down through her floor.

In a panic, Mercedes aimed Nosferatu at the shadows. Her eyes were blinded by the extreme flash of the green light from the faith magic, but when her eyes adjusted there was no longer any sign of it. Hubert was curled up on her floor and letting out little ragged breaths. Blood was leaking down onto Hubert’s legs as Mercedes rushed to help him.

His skin was freezing to the touch as he trembled and shook in her arms. Mercedes started to do her healing magic over him but found the bleeding was not ceasing. It was as if something had clawed and torn at his very insides. She wasn’t sure what the extent of the damage was and so Mercedes rushed to fetch the single concoction she kept in her medic kit for out on patrols. Hand shaped bruises were blossoming along his lower half where the thing had been climbing up him. They were the same exact size as her own fingers. “Hubert, I, I’m so sorry.” She helped him drink the foul smelling concoction and continued to work her healing spell.

“Why did you keep going when I asked you to stop?” His eyes were squeezed shut.

She thought of his mouth moving and wondered if he’d been speaking and she simply couldn’t hear. “I didn’t hear you, I couldn’t hear anything other than the voice—”

“What voice?” demanded Hubert as his eyes shot open filled with fury.

“Never mind,” said Mercedes as Hubert forced himself to sit up. The concoction was working and making him slow and clumsy.

“What did it say to you?” He was trying and failing to pull himself up to stand.

Mercedes felt shame gripping her chest as she helped him up and into her bed, “It was telling me to hurt you, to kill you.”

“Are you suggesting you summoned _something_?” whispered Hubert, his voice was getting lethargic.

“I don’t know,” said Mercedes as the guilt rose up her throat. The spell was supposed to be fun and pleasurable, not a demon that took her face and tried to kill her lover.

Hubert winced as he leaned over and grabbed the book from her nightstand. He looked like he was still in a lot of pain as he flipped to the spell’s entry. “All it says is touch your lover from across the room, this should come with a warning.”

She worked to coax the book out of his hands. Then she tried to make him feel as safe as she could, “Just try to relax.” She said it as if he had a choice. Already the concoction was taking his ability to fully sit up as he started to sag back into her pillows.

She discarded her own constricting clothes, blew out the candles in her room and crawled into bed beside him. She figured he was most comfortable in the dark. His body was still cold and shaking as she wrapped herself around him. Mercedes smoothed back his hair as she moved his head to rest against her chest. “It was just a spell,” she repeated even though she was keenly aware that _something_ had been summoned in her room, perhaps inside herself as well.

“I’ve never heard of a spell _speaking_ ,” said Hubert. His voice struck a disturbed, groggy chord. It sounded like he would not be awake for long.

Mercedes continued to massage a healing spell into his lower belly, “You’re alright now, you’re safe.” Mercedes wanted to keep him comfortable as he drifted into his medicated sleep. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured as the guilt continued to swell up within her.

When she was sure he was out she got back up and lit her candles up. Her hands were shaking as she continued to think about the voice in her head while questioning the times she had heard it before. The memory came to her as unwanted as the darkness’ violent turn; she’d heard it whispering in the night in her room growing up, _You’re happy he goes to your sister’s room instead of yours_. Mercedes wanted to vomit as she crossed her room to where she kept her tin of calming herbs.

Reflexively she rolled them up and was quickly smoking them even as her hands continued to shake. She and Emile confided in each other about the awful words; they both heard that voice speaking to them as small children. They named it the bad things voice because it was always suggesting something less than kind. Upon reflection she wondered if her mother heard it too, and if that was what Sabina began speaking to under her breath after they fled the Bartels’ estate.

Mercedes had mostly stopped hearing that voice after she took the Goddess into her heart. Perhaps it was always lurking and waiting for its chance to speak the darkest thoughts in her heart. _Go on, take the biggest slice of cake_ , it suggested softly in her ears as she portioned out dessert for a church picnic. _He can take the loss_ , it teased as Michel would offer her extra yards of fabric free of charge. _Leave your mother, you can’t help her_ , it had whispered when she was looking for work after the School of Sorcery. _Send the letter_ , it urged when she exposed her last affair.

Mercedes covered her mouth to suppress a cry as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She did not wish death on anyone, and yet if the voice was suggesting it, so maybe deep within herself she must. That wasn’t her, it couldn’t be, and yet she’d heard it in her head. She smoked more of her calming herbs and tried to find some inner peace.

She stopped feeling as if her ends were fraying after a while, and she now found herself brave enough now to look Hubert over for damage. She finished cleaning the blood from him, and with each pass of her washcloth she felt a little bit more cleansed herself. This was her fault but at least it was something she could fix.

He would not be waking for some hours and Mercedes accepted the realization he was spending the night. She wondered what he would remember in the morning and if he’d be cross with her. At least he looked placid now.

Mercedes brushed his hair out of his face and looked upon the forbidden sight of it. He actually looked handsome when he wasn’t frowning, but that was nearly impossible to see when he was awake. Mercedes picked up her sketch book and her pencils, and decided she’d sketch him to relax as she finished out her calming herbs.

She’d gotten good at sketching faces as a girl as she tried to recreate Emile from memory in Fhirdiad. She wanted something, some proof that he was real, to remind her what she’d lost. She’d gotten too good though and the sight of the sketches had made her mother burst into tears. Mercedes had barely shared her work since. Michel enjoyed them, and Annette thought they were superb, but other than showing Hubert her recordings of the strange scars on the Abyssians she’d been treating, Mercedes did not share her idle drawings.

Now she focused on Hubert and the wrinkled sheets around him. Whether it was her hobby or the herbs, by the time she was done Mercedes finally felt calm enough to sleep. She dated her sketch, it was Pegasus Moon and time was flying by her, and left her book out on her desk. She blew out all her candles and came back to bed. Mercedes curled her body around Hubert’s, no longer so icy cold, and held fast. “I’m sorry,” she whispered though she knew he could not hear her.

***

Hubert’s eyes adjusted to an unfamiliar scene in the morning light. He was still in Mercedes’ room, still naked in her arms, as the morning bell chimed. He didn’t catch exactly how many times the bell rang but he counted at least seven. They had overslept. The events of the night were coming back to him in painful bits and pieces as he started to really come to.

Hubert knew he had places to be and he dreaded going to the sauna to check his wounds after what had occurred last night. The spell had felt strange but good at first and then things had gone to ice and pain in an instant within him. It wasn’t like being cut or struck, it was like being stretched until he burst inside. Mercedes had looked like she was in a total trance as he began asking, then begging, for her to stop. She claimed she could not hear him and he wanted to believe her.

At least Mercedes’ faith spell had sent the pain all away. She had started taking care of his injuries and then things got fuzzy. He spied an empty concoction bottle on the nightstand and groaned while dreading what he might have said. He did not remember falling asleep in her bed, nor did he remember Mercedes holding him like this. Her face was squished up against him now as if he were the world’s worst pillow.

He had never seen her, rough and unpolished, in the morning light. It was a sight he wished he could be used to. He brushed his hand along the new short line of her hair in an attempt to bring her to the waking world. Part of him longed to the type of person to say something romantic, but another part of him was wary of the soreness between his legs and what she’d done to him last night. “We should get up,” whispered Hubert. “Today is a work day.”

Mercedes’ eyes slowly opened as she stared at him. She was somehow looking worse than he was feeling, “Are you still in pain?”

“No,” muttered Hubert as he shifted. “Sore, but that’s it.” His bruises were alarming and proof that it hadn’t been a horrible dream, but at least he no longer felt like his insides were being subjected to a mortar and pestle.

“Are you mad at me?” asked Mercedes quietly as she felt his torso. Her touch was soft and warm, and so unlike the spell she’d cast.

Hubert sighed, “I don’t wish to try that, or perhaps any other dark magic spells from that book, ever again.” He took her hand and removed it from him knowing full well that if she kept stroking him he would risk losing his motivation to leave. Hubert forced himself from the bed and started to collect his discarded clothing.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Mercedes as she watched him pulling on his uniform.

Hubert worked on buttoning his shirt, “Mad does not describe how I feel.” He was silent as he tried to figure out how to say what he was feeling without hurting her feelings. Usually he found it easy to bluntly deliver some emotion free assessment, but this was all tangled up with how he felt about her, and how he wanted her to feel about him. “That spell was vile, and I think if you had known what it would do you would not have cast it upon me.” He recounted the uncomfortable and dangerous evening, “You mentioned hearing voices while you were casting.”

“Just one voice,” said Mercedes as she sat up. She had taken on an unusual pallor and Hubert did a double take at her expression; he had never seen her so forlorn. “It’s something I’ve heard before.”

Hubert paused his buttoning to watch her. “You hear voices,” he clarified.

Mercedes looked ashamed as she started to get into her own clothes. She chose something especially plain and muted, and looked about as depressed as the Adrestian military uniforms. “Not in a long time. Emile and I both did as children. I think my mother hears something too. Our whole family must be crazy.” She spoke in fluttering breaths and her eyes brimmed with tears.

Hubert stared at her trembling, and then strode to her and stretched his arms around her. Mercedes’ voice was muffled against his jacket, “What are you doing?”

“I am hugging you, though I am in clear need of practice since that is not obvious,” said Hubert as he rubbed her back with a stiff hand. At that Mercedes burst into a sob. Hubert tried to think of something comforting to say to her but was interrupted by a sudden rapt at the door.

Jeritza’s voice carried into the room, “Mercedes, you are late for patrol.” Mercedes pushed away from Hubert in startled shock as she looked at the door and then him. Her face was an awful blotchy mess that would be difficult to explain. Hubert looked towards her window and realized there was no way he would fit through it to escape her brother waiting just outside her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _oh a smutty_ \--HORROR SCENE! It is purely coincidental that I posted this close to Halloween. 
> 
> spells used in this chapter (restraints, evil!mercedes) may be relevant in later battles ;) 
> 
> thank you to the reader who suggested "cold cave crew" to describe the freezing faerghus few in a comment, I liked that a lot! Also, thank you to the reader who did a massive callback to "Solon's weed" from one of my dark mage timeline fics, lmao, and that inspired me to put Rhea's canonical calming herbs into action.


	35. How the Death Knight got his horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Jeritza's formative experiences and the things he has hidden from his sister. Byleth is woken by a truly desperate prayer.

Sabina was organizing the preserves in the pantry. Emile was stuck on a stool as punishment. “When are they leaving?” Emile’s nose was pressed up against the glass as he stared at his sister playing in the yard with Constance von Nuvelle. The two girls were having a wonderful time together and it warmed Sabina’s heart to see her daughter making a friend. Emile was not exactly playing nice with the girls though.

Sabina sighed, “You’re smearing your snot all over that window.”

Emile pulled back and tried not to giggle as he looked back at his mother, “Did you say snot?”

“I did, I believe that is the root of your punishment this afternoon, something about wiping your nose on Constance?”

“It was only a couple boogers, we thought it would be funny” murmured Emile as he went back to staring. He often said _we_ instead of I, but Sabina never pressed him on it. “Why is she here again?”

“Your father is trying to arrange a marriage,” said Sabina as she pulled out a jar of peach jam. She spread it on one of the simple butter cookies she’d made, a recipe from her late husband’s family. Her throat grew tight at the thought of Daniel dead in the ground. He was the father her children deserved, but it was the monster that they needed to keep them safe. She passed her son a cookie sandwich and waited for him to start eating before posing her question, “What do you think of marrying Constance?”

Emile’s noise of disgust was muffled by the cookie in his mouth. Sabina tried not to laugh, “Oh, good, was that a ‘it sounds wonderful mother’?”

Emile’s face turned red as he swallowed, “Me? I have to get married? No!”

Sabina gave his hair an affectionate ruffle, “Oh alright, I’ll inform your father that you will not be wed.”

“Good,” said Emile with relief as he looked back where his sister was playing. “Does Mercie have to get married?”

“Eventually,” said Sabina, though it chilled her to consider the day her daughter would be auctioned off for her crest and her pleasant smile. Mercedes was a sweet little girl, a little too sweet, and far too soft. The world was going to eat her up and spit her out with indifference. “It’s your job to keep her safe, you two must look out for each other. Do you understand me?”

Emile nodded and reached for another cookie. “I won’t let her marry anyone bad.”

Sabina shook her head as she watched him cramming his face with sweets, some punishment this was turning out to be. She picked Emile up and took his seat, placing him in her lap as she wrapped her arms around him. He was squirmy and warm, full of energy, and impossibly strong. Sabina kissed his tallow colored head even as he protested that kisses were gross. “If we look out for each other, the three of us will be alright,” whispered Sabina as she held him and watched the girls running in the yard.

***

Emile crouched in the foliage watching and waiting with his bow. Gerhard was hunkered down beside him with his eyes trained on the clearing. Their objective was to make themselves invisible as they watched their prey. They had been still for so long that a doe had wandered into the area with two fawns behind her. Emile slowly drew his arrow back. The bow groaned as it bent but his movements were slow and precise. The deer showed no signs of alarm. She was too distracted by her little fawns to realize she was already caught within a trap.

Emile let the arrow free and felt the bow string thwack against his inner elbow. _Sloppy_ , whispered a dark voice inside his head. The doe fell as the arrow pierced her neck. Gerhard looked at Emile with pride, “Good.” The bow had been a gift for his birthday, and he was getting better at using it with each shot.

They brought the fawns back to be raised in a pen with the cows. Mercie was delighted by the new additions and gave them both names. “This one can be Mercie and this one Emile,” she said happily as she pet the soft coat of her docile namesake.

Emile lifted up the back leg of his, “I’m not sure this is a boy deer.”

Mercie was aghast, “Emile, you can’t just lift up someone’s leg and see what their parts look like.”

Emile shrugged. This wasn’t a someone, it was a deer, and it was definitely female. “Call it Jeanne or Colette.”

“No,” protested Mercie. “They’re not nice like you. Just let me call it Emile.”

“I am not nice,” protested Emile, but he did not make her choose a new name. Mercie was in charge of caring for the fawns and making sure they were well fed, and soon the deer were fully grown.

“See, now they can go back to the forest because they’re big enough to be on their own,” said Mercedes happily as she watched them and prided herself on a job well done. Her arms hung over the fence of the livestock pen as she hand fed her two favorite pets oats. Emile had a feeling they weren’t letting them go. Deer were valuable, and valuable things were not just set free. Mercie-deer was the first to become dinner.

“Mercedes, eat your supper,” warned Gerhard as he watched her. Mercedes’ lip quivered as she pushed the venison around her plate. Finally she closed her eyes and ate it, and Gerhard’s attention drifted elsewhere. Emile squeezed her hand beneath the table although he was uncertain why she was so sad. She knew that they ate deer, he couldn’t understand why she thought these would be any different. This was why it was bad to love animals. _She has a soft heart, your mother is right, we must protect her_ , mused the voice inside him as they studied his naive sister. Emile supposed she was a bit of a cry baby sometimes but very nice, and that was the way he liked her to be. He did not want her mixed up in strength or weakness, he just wanted her to be happy.

They didn’t eat Emile-deer, but something did. The carnage of the demonic beast attack had Mercie cowering behind Sabina, but Emile was standing with his father as they picked through the littered bits of livestock strewn about the yard. “See Emile, this is why we patrol. Best to take care of these things before they breach our home.”

Emile nodded in agreement. If a beast got into the estate, it would have no problem gobbling up his sisters. A beast could eat Colette and Jeanne, but Emile wouldn’t let a beast touch Mercie. Mercie was sobbing now into their mother’s skirt over the whole mess. Emile wanted to tell her that at least now she didn’t have to eat Emile-deer, but he knew enough to know that would just upset her more. So Emile kept his thoughts to himself. _Protecting her and defeating a beast would be a true test of our strength_, added the voice within him. Emile did not mind the sound of that.

***

Hunting his older half-brother wasn’t like hunting a deer, it was actually much easier. Louis made a lot of noise as he cried his way through the woods and he failed to notice the signs of his hunters closing in. They did not even need to bring the dogs to track him it was that elementary. Emile had little trouble subduing him.

This was for Louis’ own good. Louis would surely give up and try to come home, but he might get lost. Emile was annoyed but this was the best way to ensure his brother didn’t end up eaten or starve to death. Those both seemed like bad ways to die. _When we die someday, we will go with glory, not a crying whimper_.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” said Gerhard as he stared at his two sons, one strong, one weak.

Louis cowered and trembled in his ropes as Gerhard and Emile set in for sleep. Emile awoke a few hours later to the sounds of Louis finally working his way free. His brother was so noisy, sobbing and shuddering, as he ran. Emile groaned and grabbed his bow. _How many times do we need to teach him this lesson?_

Louis did not get far before tripping in the dark and injuring himself. “I won’t go back,” protested Louis. He was barely visible in the darkness but Emile had no trouble locating him. Louis had wet himself at some point and reeked. Every little breath he let out was wet and shaky.

Emile’s every sense was focused upon his mean spirited brother. Louis used to pick on Mercie and his sisters because they were the only people weaker than him. Emile had taken that away from him just like his position as heir. As far as Emile was concerned, Louis deserved nothing.

Emile watched Louis in silence as his brother attempted to examine his injured ankle while trying not to cry. “I can’t live there any more, father will just train me to death. I don’t want to hurt anymore.” Louis broke into a loud sob and continued to plead with Emile, “I don’t want to hurt. Please let me go.”

 _He is not strong. Let him go. It is what he wants_ , ordered the voice. Mercedes heard it too sometimes and she begged Emile not to listen to it, but right now it made complete sense.

Emile drew his arrow back in silence. Louis wasn’t going anywhere fast, but it would still be best to take him by surprise. Waiting to die seemed like a terrible way to go. The arrow struck Louis in the neck, and death flowed out of him with a short series of wet, gurgling breaths. “You won’t hurt anymore,” whispered Emile as he pulled his arrow out of his brother’s neck and returned it to his quiver.

In the morning Gerhard stared at Louis’ body for a long time. Emile waited for his father to ask him what happened. However Gerhard asked no questions as he flung Louis over his mount. The ride home was spent in silence. For the first time Emile found his father was not proud of what he’d done. Emile sensed something else, _fear_ , and something within him longed to figure out how to make that feeling grow.

When they returned home he watched as Mercedes’ eyes widened with horror at the sight of Louis’ body. She did not even like her step brother, and yet she cried for days about his death. Emile did not understand why she mourned him, but the fact that she was crying about it brought him shame. He told her it was an accident that Louis had died, and that seemed to make her feel a little better. Emile dared not give her the truth.

*

Emile wasn’t old enough to fight in the Hrym revolt. Seeing how badly they had lost, Emile suspected that even though he was a mere boy he was probably better with a spear than most of his father’s forces. They were farmers and tradespeople, and they had no idea what they were doing. It was no surprise to him they lost. They had zero chance of winning, and yet they had fought anyway. That was something Emile did not quite understand. Regardless, his father had gotten a lot of people killed, and as punishment Emile was now _here_.

Here was drippy, damp, and disgusting. His room was a tiny cell without a window that made days blurred into nights. In what he discerned to be morning, Emile would wake to present his arms to masked mages. Some days they hooked him up to a strange machine to draw his blood; those days were boring. When they didn’t take his blood, they let him train. Those days were exciting if only because something happened.

He was fine with physical weapons, good even, compared to the other children. Training with magic was harder. He could do it, but it didn’t come as naturally to him as a spear or a bow. He didn’t like memorizing spells. Emile felt like wielding a weapon was an extension of his very body. The movements were intuitive. They gave shape to voice inside his head and allowed the two of them to move as one. Spells just felt like a tutoring session with too many rules, and Emile hated being told what to do. At least the other children were no better with magic. There were the Ordelias and the Hryms, a whole mess of them, although there were fewer and fewer as time passed.

He was grateful Mercedes was long gone from their home by the time he was taken away, because he knew she would never survive this place. She needed sunshine, flowers and hugs. Emile did not need such things, though he imagined a hug from his sister would be quite nice now and then. He liked to dream about Mercedes living happily far, far away. Maybe she was with Constance von Nuvelle. Maybe she was living in a city, or on a better farm. Perhaps their mother had remarried someone good and Mercie had a nice father who did not wish to make more crests with her. As long as she wasn’t _here_ it was fine. Emile knew he just needed to bide his time, and then he could get free and find her.

Sometimes he and the other captives were observed by important looking people while training. “The older children are not tolerating the treatment,” said one of the beaked dark mages to a cold looking man who wore no mask. “We lost another this morning.” He looked out where one fewer Ordelia was standing, “I believe it may be an issue of compatibility. They may be more amenable to receiving the crest of Charon.”

“We cannot bleed the youngest without killing her, continue to use Lamine,” instructed the maskless one. Emile’s ears tilted ever so slightly towards their conversation. It was dangerous to be noticed listening, and Emile had gotten adept at appearing indifferent to whatever he was eavesdropping on.

“Of course Commander Thales,” said the masked mage.

Thales was plain and common looking, but his eyes were hungry as they stared out at the children. It wasn’t like the hunger in Gerhard’s eyes looking at his daughters, this was different. This was darker. The spark of an idea illuminated the shadows in Thales’ eyes.

“Actually, prepare the youngest,” whispered Thales. “I have a theory I’d like to test using that Gloucester sample.”

“Are you sure you want—”

“Did I stutter? Do as you’re told or pick your coffin,” snapped Thales before leaving the area. _He would be a good challenge of our skill_ , added Emile’s inner demon with an extra sense of excitement to its words. _I tire of fighting children, we should test ourselves against a man_.

Emile knew little of what was happening outside the training room, the blood room, or his tight cramped cell, but he knew Thales was most certainly in charge. He also knew he was valuable and they would not be just letting him go anytime soon. He wanted to find a way to use that to his advantage.

*

Emile understood his assignment. He was to kill the ones with crests in a way that minimized bloodshed. His masters needed the blood for their experiments and he was not to waste a single drop. His masters clearly did not appreciate the art of killing like he did.

His first mark was some squire or knight, a personal guard of the king. The navy haired youth was a worthy opponent in speed and cunning, but failed when it came to strength. Emile snapped the young man’s neck with disappointment that they had not met in a proper duel. In another life maybe they could have been rivals, but in this life Emile was merely this nameless youth’s executioner.

Next, the King of Faerghus. An agent of Thales had failed to seduce Lambert, but had sunk her claws into his new wife. From there it was easy to grow the influence of the Agarthans in the north. Now they would destabilize the place with this massacre, making it easier to take over in a few years down the line.

The honor of fighting Lambert was given to Emile for his exceptional skill. Yet this opponent was as underwhelming as the squire. The king was strong, but old and past his prime. Emile indulged himself a little bloodshed with this one, just a taste, to sate his desires. It was a pity not to have fought Blaiddyd in his peak condition. That would be a fight worthy of the Death Knight.

It was the name he gave to thing inside him. The voice had been inside his head as far back he could remember, and the Agarthans had taught him how to harness it. They told him it was a product of his crest, and that when they transferred his Lamine laden blood to the crestless little Hryms and Ordelias, the voice drove them mad. Apparently different crests had different effects, and so the Agarthans were collecting as many samples as possible. They were here in Duscar not just for the renowned Fraldarius and Blaiddyd crests, but also lost crests that had ended up in far flung pockets of the world. Dark Mages knew how to sense out magic, who cast it and where it came from, and they used those tools to find such crests. The most highly trained Agarthans could even sniff one out from a single drop of blood.

Emile cared little for how he’d gotten his crest or why it came with a strange cruel voice, and only for how he could use it. He and the Death Knight moved as one body when fighting. Decisions were easier when he listened to the demon’s advice. _Hit his flank_. It was like it had bird’s eye view of the battle. The Death Knight sensed out weakness like a bloodhound sniffing out a runaway and missed no signs of hesitation. _There he’s distracted, go in for his thigh_. When Emile did not listen he had problems, and so Emile gave himself over entirely to his warrior’s spirit.

Despite all this, Blaiddyd managed to get in one hit towards Emile’s face where his visor blocked the edges of his vision. _Unmask yourself now you fool_. Emile ripped his helm off to prevent it from further obscuring his sight. With his view now unhindered, he had no trouble bringing the king down. It was a little more satisfying to drive his scythe through Lambert’s neck having tasted the king’s own blade. It was probably too much precious crested blood spilled, and he was sure he’d hear about it later.

With his marks complete he was free to roam and kill as he pleased with few limitations. The last carriage in the procession was not to be opened. Inside was the queen consort and her son, the crown prince. They were not to be touched as long as they stayed put. Emile watched the carriage in the distance as he wiped Lambert’s blood off his scythe with the king’s cape.

The carriage door burst open without warning and a blond youth shot out into the fray. Emile did not wish to fight a child, that was a waste of his talent, however the prince needed to be collected. The young prince looked devastated as he stared at Emile and Lambert dead at his feet. Dimitri’s fingers curled into fists as he stood defiant despite his lack of weapon. Perhaps the Death Knight would make an exception and entertain a small scuffle with this boy if the prince came after him.

A blond woman chased out after the youth, begging him to come back to the safety of the carriage, “Please Dimitri, don’t!”

“We have to do something,” the boy yelled back. He was brave, foolishly so. With that he bolted towards a group of people being set upon by mages, as if he could take them down by himself.

The queen consort grabbed her bewildered attendant who had followed her from the carriage, “Get him now, bring him back!”

The attendant did not budge as she watched Emile walking towards them. Her eyes were glued to the dead navy haired youth, and Emile did not need to be a psychic to know they were close. Perhaps they were even related.

He readied his scythe. It was so brutal in its reach and sharpness. It was a delightful weapon, though it had no magic to it like other Agarthan creations. That suited him fine, he preferred showing his strength without the added help of any spells. 

The attendant blitzed forward with all the fury she had. _She’s fast, but not fast enough_ , chuckled the Death Knight as they swung their scythe out. The very end of it ripped a course up her face. It wasn’t fatal because the Death Knight wanted to play. She didn’t have a crest and therefore there were no rules about how he had to kill her. He could cause a real blood bath if he so wished.

She fell back holding the wound rather than continuing to strike. _Pity_ , said the Death knight as they continued to close to the gap.

The blond woman, the consort he wasn’t supposed to touch, pulled her attendant back, “Enora, get Dimitri away from here now, he must be protected.” The wounded woman’s eyes traced from the fallen bodies, to Emile, to the direction Dimitri had run in. She took her order and ran.

Emile stared down at the shaking consort. He knew only a little of her and how she factored into this plan. “You were supposed to stay in your carriage, you were not supposed to see my face,” said Emile as he looked at the woman. It was doubtful someone would recognize him, but he was still supposed to be keeping his identity concealed.

“Please, please spare my son,” begged the woman as she groveled at his feet.

“You did not follow orders, I can make no guarantees for either of you,” said Emile. He rolled his neck and let it crack to release the pressure building up. Emile sighed as she scrambled to run from him at the sound. The queen consort was little better than his half-brother when it came to her escape.

As he passed people running from the carnage he cut them down but Patricia was his new mark. She could not be allowed to get away. She knew too much, and valuable assets did not get to go far.

It was not an enjoyable game of cat and mouse. Patricia oozed fear and desperation. She had loud, fluttery breaths filled with panic. Her hiding space was not even creative, though it was poetic to corner her in the butcher’s shop. “You must return to the carriage.”

She backed up as far as she could go into behind the area where the meat was cut, “Please, I know I wasn’t supposed to leave—”

“This is not my decision,” said Emile with an even voice as he raised his scythe to show her he was serious. The Agarthans had plans for her whether she knew it or not.

“I don’t want to go back,” whispered Patricia. “I just wanted to protect the boy, I wanted to protect my son from this. I know I failed my daughter, I cannot live with having failed them both.” For a split second he saw not Patricia but his own mother Sabina staring back at him.

 _Don’t send her back_ , said the Death Knight with encouragement. _You know what will become of her if you do._ He’d overheard his masters’ intentions for her, for her body. She’d birthed some crested child, she was barely in her thirties, and she could have more. _Don’t send her back, give her a good death. That is the only way she can be free_.

Emile nodded and took a deep breath; the smell of the meat and blood permeated his every sense. “I will not send you there. Do you have any last words?”

The color drained away from Patricia’s face until her skin was as pale as her unnatural bleached hair. “I-I’m the mother of the Flame Emperor, so I am told. I can get you into a position of power. Please just let me and my son go—”

Emile did not desire a promotion. It was an insult for her to attempt to bribe him like this. The Flame Emperor, yes Emile had heard of that faceless fool. Surely he was little more than a puppet ruler being groomed in Enbarr. “No,” whispered Emile before slicing Patricia to bits. It was a move that would get him punished severely, and so he was sure to hide the evidence.

He was already in the butcher's shop, and when cut up all meat looked the same.

*

After Duscar he was sent home to lay low and work to establish himself as heir of his house. He had been away for years now, taken as a boy, and returned as not quite a man. Emile von Bartels looked at his awful house with grim disdain. If he had his way he’d burn the place to the ground with all his extended family inside.

Gerhard no longer seemed so big to him. “Emile, you, you’re back,” said his father with a hint of hope in his voice. It was a strange tone to hear coming forth from his lips. Gone was the cold indifference and worshiping of strength, and all that remained was a man from whom almost everything had been taken. Now he had his last son back, and Gerhard dared to sound inspired. It grated on Emile’s ears.

“We should have a hunting trip, a party, to celebrate,” said Gerhard. “I-I have good news for you, I know where your mother and sister are.” Emile’s guts twisted inside of him. His father nodded with a weak smile mistaking Emile’s revulsion for pleasure, “They’re all the way in Fhirdiad, but together we can bring them home, we can all be a family again. How does that sound?”

 _Can I kill him?_ , asked the Death Knight unironically. Emile managed a tight lipped smile. He had no words for this excuse for a man, but speaking appeased people, “I would like to see them very much. But first, the hunting trip.”

A few cousins were brought along for the trip in the woods. Emile watched from the periphery of the group around the campfire as the distant relations swapped their stories of better days. The time of the Bartels was long over. Their house was struggling, their allies were all bled dry, and their enemies demanded more and more taxes. This was not a hunt to celebrate, this was a hunt to put an extra scrap of food on the table.

Emile decided it best to eliminate a few hungry mouths for the good of the house. It was simple to push his father into the bear trap. That held Gerhard in place as the Death Knight and Emile danced in beautiful unison around the campfire, hacking and slashing. It was a symphony of screams and gurgles punctuated with a solo of laughter from the heir of the house.

He left one alive, the youngest. “Go fetch the magistrate,” said Emile softly. “There’s been a horrible accident.” The youth dashed in the dark to get as far away from the scene as possible.

“Why did you let him go?” The Death Knight rarely spoke out loud.

“Because I want the credit for this,” said Emile as he shook out his limbs and prepared to kill his father as slowly as possible. Mercedes would be horrified by this solution to their problem, but Emile reveled in the blood shed.

*

 _Who the fuck is that_ , growled the Death Knight looking out the window of their cell. He did not like being in chains one bit and with each passing day he grew more resentful of the situation Emile had landed them in. Emile did not mind their confinement quite as much, although he was equally curious about the extremely prim young woman who had ridden up to the jail. She was small, tiny really, with hair so white it was painful to look at in the sun. She was attended by a serious looking host of guards.

The magistrate looked bewildered as he realized he ought to be bowing, “Uh, your highness? What, what brings you here?”

 _Highness?_ repeated the Death Knight. _But really, who the fuck is that?_

“I received a notice of execution for Emile von Bartels. Given his standing and the nature of the crimes I thought it prudent to come hear about the situation myself before I sign the writ for his hanging,” announced the teenager. “I will be having dinner with him, I presume your office can be spared for the evening?” The magistrate’s mouth hung open before he obliged her.

 _Fine, I like her_ , said the Death Knight. Emile had not yet made up his mind.

Several hours later he found himself being washed by force and delivered in shackles to the magistrate’s office. “Good evening, I am Edelgard von Hresvelg,” said his peculiar teenage host. He had been underground for a while, but he hadn’t forgotten the name von Hresvelg. Her violet eyes snapped to the soldier who had brought him in, “Thank you Ladislava, please wait outside the door.” The soldier bowed and left him, a convicted murderer, alone with this small imperial princess. This was odd indeed.

Emile said nothing as he took his seat. The dinner was simple, but clearly well prepared. “Customarily people introduce themselves at this point,” said Edelgard as she picked up her knife and fork. “Though I will cut to the chase, I already know who you are and where you’ve spent your last few years.”

“Are you an agent of the Flame Emperor?” Perhaps this runt was the Flame Emperor’s younger sister. Against his better judgment she reminded him of his own sister. Not in manner, but somewhat in appearance. Mercedes had been close to this princess’ size when she fled, and she would surely love this young woman’s fashion. However the princess was sharp and direct in her movements and speech, and so very unlike his sister in her calculating stare.

“I am the Flame Emperor,” said Edelgard as she began to cut into her steak. Emile’s mind drifted to the sight of Patricia cut to ribbons by his blade. Crimson juices splashed out against the stark white plate. “And I would like to make you an offer.”

Patricia’s sobbing, shaking words rang in his ears, _I am the mother of the Flame Emperor, so I am told_. This was the daughter the queen consort had abandoned, much like how Emile’s own mother had chosen the weak child over the strong to save. Emile ignored his food and took a sip of wine. With the way things were going it was likely to be his first and last glass. He hated it.

“I am told you are a valuable asset, although with this very public display of your ability the organization would like to distance itself from you,” said Edelgard. She was as calm as if this were a social call. “However I was quite impressed, and I would like to offer you a job.”

“I have another appointment with the hangman that I cannot move,” said Emile, his voice as dry as the awful wine. He’d done what he’d always aimed to do; he’d removed his father and in doing so ensured his sister’s safety. He’d killed many people though, and so he did not exactly wish to find Mercedes. It was easier this way. He could not taint her if he never saw her again. He was ashamed at the idea of her looking upon him with horror and fear.

“Surely you don’t want to die in such an unremarkable manner?” asked Edelgard. It was not a question, she clearly knew something about him. Perhaps it was something they had in common.

“What is this job?” asked Emile as he began to eat his food. Maybe he didn’t need to die, maybe he just had to avoid Mercedes to keep his sister safe from the Death Knight’s murderous impulses.

“I would like you to be my personal combat instructor,” said Edelgard.

The Death Knight laughed out loud. Emile managed a small grin afterward at the thought of being a private tutor to a princess. Edelgard seemed unruffled by the taunt, “It is either this or a grave. The decision is yours.” She continued to eat as if the choice made little difference to her.

Emile von Bartels was recorded as executed in 1176 by the Magistrate of the Barony of Bartels. Days later Jeritza von Hrym, a distant heir from a disgraced house, took a position in the Imperial palace at Enbarr. It was a new name for a new man, one without a sister for her own protection.

Edelgard attended school in the mornings, then in the early afternoon she would sit for her father for a few hours as he lectured at her. He’d go on and on about their glorious family history while Edelgard patiently awaited her evening sparring session. In the meantime Jeritza would train by himself, and read up on all the things he’d missed while underground.

“You’re too small,” said Jeritza as he assessed the princess’ progress in her form. “Axes will not give you the necessary reach. You should be on lances.”

Edelgard frowned and tightened her hold of her training weapon, “I prefer axes, I will learn to make them work for me.” There was no problem that Edelgard believed could not be bent or broken to her will.

Jeritza did admire her spirit. He wore her down night after night and challenged her to build herself back up each day. She was relentless, and he grew to enjoy her fierceness. She was not like Mercedes, not in the least, and yet a part of him wanted to keep her safe. The Death Knight suggested perhaps it was because she was so comically small next to her massive axe, but Jeritza knew it was because she flinched whenever her uncle came by. Jeritza would watch as Lord Arundel set a possessive hand on Edelgard and for a brief second his mind would flash to Mercedes’ quivering lip as Gerhard massaged her shoulders at the dinner table. While Arundel’s eyes were not like Gerhard’s, the shadows in them were familiar.

Jeritza knew that look because he had seen it in Thales’ eyes years before. It stirred up something in him he thought was only reserved for Mercedes, the compulsion to protect another. It terrified him to feel that for someone new. For as strong as Edelgard was, she was still not ready yet. He would stay and shield her until she was strong enough to defend herself and strike back, then maybe he would find the courage to find his sister having done at least one nice thing for someone else in his life.

*

Hubert arrived at Remire Village ahead of Edelgard to prepare the safe house they would use during the school year. Remire was the closest Adrestian outpost to Garreg Mach, and therefore their base of operations. Jeritza had been here for months already, overseeing the dark mages setting up whatever it was they were doing. While he did not enjoy Hubert’s company, he could not deny that Edelgard’s right hand was useful for acquiring objects and information.

“Here’s the new helm, made to your elaborate specifications,” said Hubert as he passed Jeritza the box. A rush of adrenaline coursed through Jeritza as the likeness of a skull with horns stared back at him. Jeritza did not especially care for Vestra’s constant low grade tone of annoyance every time they spoke. It pricked at him as Vestra continued, “I have another bit of news for you.” One of his annoying thin eyebrows rose to tease at Jeritza. Vestra seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of people, but he’d yet to succeed with Jeritza.

Jertiza tore his eyes away from the armor and waited for Hubert to elaborate. “I found your sister, you’ll be seeing her soon,” said Hubert.

“What do you mean?” Maybe Vestra was capable of getting under his skin after all. Jeritza felt like he was being flayed at the unexpected news.

“Mercedes von Martritz of Fhirdiad was recently, very recently, accepted to the Officer’s Academy,” said Hubert. “Her tuition was paid by a handsome donation from some minor noble family. I believe the term hush money was thrown about—”

“What are you implying?” asked Jeritza as he felt something strange inside him twisting at Vestra’s words.

“It appears your sister had an affair and was paid for her silence, she used the money to come here,” said Hubert with all the smug satisfaction of finally riling Edelgard’s stoic combat instructor.

“That does not sound like Mercedes,” said Jeritza with a knowing shake of his head. No. That was not like her at all. She was not manipulative and conniving, there had to be some mistake.

Hubert shrugged with indifference, “I just followed the receipts. I don’t know any details.” Jeritza had a feeling if he asked, Hubert would be all too happy to dig for more information. “Her presence presents a problem because it risks your identity being compromised, which may lead to questions of why a murderer is so close to her highness. Lady Edelgard suggested this as a solution.” Hubert held up a thin white mask.

“Is this a joke?” asked Jeritza as he accepted it. It was an insult.

“I’m afraid not. Do you have a better suggestion?”

Jeritza glowered as he put it on. “I look like a fool,” he whispered as he caught his reflection in the gleaming black steel of his new helm. The white mask was completely ridiculous.

“Yes well no one will be laughing when the Death Knight cuts them down I assure you,” said Hubert with a long look at the sinister skull helm. “Just tell people you have a scar, they’re polite little nobles, they won’t pry.”

Jeritza did have a scar, only it was on his soul and he dared not let his sister see. The mask was not without its benefits however. The young prince from the massacre at Duscar had grown up and was here too. Sometimes Jeritza would catch Dimitri staring at his mask, but if there was any recognition the prince bottled it up tight. Jeritza was not accustomed to anxiety, but he was almost eager for the prince to confront him. He hated waiting for a fight, especially one that would be a true challenge. The Death Knight thirsted for it as much as Jeritza longed to avoid it.

Watching Mercedes navigate Garreg Mach fully blind to his identity was a different kind of torture. When Hanneman suggested she might want to try out bows, Jeritza refused saying she did not look suited to archery. It kept them far apart and he hoped it would keep her away from combat. His stomach twisted every time she was deployed on a mission, and he only felt relief when he saw she was back safe and unharmed.

When he saw her collapse before him in the battle for Garreg Mach he wished that she had not been so brave as to fight. He wished she had run away, but instead she was at his feet and completely vulnerable. If he didn’t pick her up, someone else surely would. Jeritza saved Mercedes without hesitation. Yet could not risk her being too close to him; he was a fighter on the front lines and he wanted her with the healers and out of danger. That was a fine solution until he’d been called back to the monastery and she was doing everything she could to be close once more. He craved it even as he stuck her up on a pedestal and far from his reach. If she learned the truth about all the things he done he was not sure she could forgive him.

Now she was crying in her room, and Hubert von Vestra was the only person around to blame for her tears. “What is going on?” Jeritza tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible, but an unfamiliar burning rage was quelling up in his throat and testing his resolve. The Death Knight snorted in his ears, _You know exactly what’s going on_.

“This is a misunderstanding,” said Mercedes, her voice heavy with weariness. “Whatever this looks like, I promise it’s not.”

Jeritza looked at the two of them still in a state of getting dressed and felt revulsion that he was seeing something so private. Hubert’s ugly hands were exposed and unwanted the thought of those twisted palms touching Mercedes intruded into Jeritza’s mind. His jaw clenched as he kept back whatever rude commentary the Death Knight wished to air out about where those scarred up fingers had been.

“It looks like you spent the night together,” said Jeritza finally, for want of breaking the silence. Her bed was unmade and there were suggestive undergarments he did not realize Mercedes owned scattered on the floor.

Mercedes’ skin flushed as she composed herself, “I’m a grown woman Emile, I have sex sometimes.”

Intimate relationships between people were not in Jeritza’s wheelhouse. He did not pretend to understand the appeal. “Did you have a fight?” He hated how forced his voice sounded. He was not upset about the sex but instead the tears that followed. It was the idea that Hubert had wronged her in some way that was stoking a burning rage within him.

“No,” said Mercedes. She seemed exhausted. “I’m upset with myself.”

Her response did not clarify anything for him. Jeritza stared at Hubert as if he could will an explanation out of him. Vestra said absolutely nothing and was just staring at Jeritza with a tense gaze. _I don’t know, he looks guilty to me_ , suggested the Death Knight with glee.

The mood was heavy like lightning might strike at any moment from any one of their hands. _You could definitely kill him from here, he’s in range_ , whispered the Death Knight. It wasn’t an order so much as a challenge. Jeritza ignored him; he did not think Mercedes would be very forgiving if he murdered her beau in her bedroom. That was not protecting her, that was possessing her and Jeritza swore he would never be his father. Jeritza took a deep breath and composed himself, “Vestra, come on patrol with us.”

Hubert looked set off balance by the odd request, “I have other engagements to attend to—”

“I want to speak with you, and I do not wish to be kept waiting,” said Jeritza as his patience grew thin.

“Really, in the woods, right now?” Hubert looked less than enthusiastic.

“I merely desire to have a private conversation, then you may go onto whatever plans you have,” said Jeritza. He simply needed to establish how very unacceptable it was to cause Mercedes any pain, and what sorts of consequence that would bring to Hubert.

“Why not over breakfast, or better yet, we could make an appointment for later?” asked Hubert as he pulled on his gloves.

“We’re talking now, or not at all about this. I only have so much benefit of the doubt to give you, and it is quickly running out,” said Jeritza as he turned to exit the room. He leaned against the wall outside rather than continue to watch them getting dressed.

Within the room he could hear Mercedes sighing and pulling on her coat, “Just do it, please, for me.”

“I hope he understands I cannot be out for hours,” whispered Hubert.

Jertiza’s hands twisted along the shaft of his scythe as he tried to keep calm and collected. The Death Knight scoffed in his ears, _She could do much better than him_. For Jeritza, it was not a matter of who his sister fancied, it was that they treated her well. If they failed in that then Jeritza would make no promises for their safety.

*

Mercedes pulled on her mittens and bundled her scarf around her neck as Hubert finished getting on his coat. “I’m sorry,” added Mercedes once more.

Hubert gave a quick look at the door, “You can stop apologizing.” He sank his hands into his pockets, “Let’s just get this over with.”

The trio walked in silence as Mercedes felt her stomach twisting from hunger. Mercedes dug deep into her medic pack and pulled out a hard biscuit to tide herself over until she could get to the dining hall for lunch. She silently offered one to Hubert but he just shook his head. This was going to be a terrible patrol, she could just feel it. She’d slept horribly and it was extra gray out.

Emile was leading them through the woods and completely ignoring her. She wondered what exactly his aim was or how far they needed to go before it was sufficiently private. Mercedes sincerely hoped her little brother was not about to lecture her about having an affair. After a good half hour of silence, Mercedes finally broke. “Emile, can we just talk please?”

He slowed and turned to look at them, and then at Garreg Mach shrinking in the distance, “I suppose this is far enough.”

“Far enough for what?” Mercedes folded her arms.

“To talk,” said Emile as if it were obvious. “About what you are doing together, and why you were crying.”

“It’s really none of your business,” muttered Mercedes as she nudged the toe of her boot in the snow. “But if you insist on knowing, I was doing a spell on Hubert and I lost control of it. I hurt him, enough that he had to sleep it off in my room. I’m crying because I cannot believe I did that to someone.”

“What kind of spell?” asked Emile.

Mercedes felt a flush in her cheeks as she thought about the scene, “The kind you don’t tell your brother about!”

She saw his eyes dancing with realization. Emile even had a light dusting of a blush in his ears. “I see.” He turned his rapt attention to Hubert, “What exactly are your intentions towards my sister?”

Mercedes wondered if the Death Knight had ever killed anyone by embarrassing them too much. Hubert cleared his throat with a surprised little cough, “I don’t have intentions towards Mercedes. I respect that she is not looking for anything beyond a little _company_ in the evenings, so that is all this is.”

Mercedes cringed as she listened to Hubert’s awkward phrasing. Emile turned his attention back towards her, “Other than the spell, are you happy with this arrangement?”

She felt her emotions welling up in her chest and she was acutely aware that she sounded on the verge of tears. “It would make me happy if I could just tell you I was seeing someone, but we barely talk about ourselves at all. I’m not here to fight for Adrestia, I’m here for you, I’m here to be your sister.” Emile’s eyes averted from her and Mercedes let out a sigh at his reaction. “I wish we could share our secrets again.”

“I should not have pried, I merely wanted to ensure you were not being mistreated,” said Emile as his eyes came back up to meet hers.

“Thank you,” said Mercedes in a soft voice. She looked up at the unpleasant gray sky for a few moments to calm down before nodding to her brother, “I think we’re done here. Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll catch up after I’ve said goodbye to Hubert?”

Emile did not need to be told twice as he turned to walk on their familiar patrol route. Hubert’s jaw looked tight as Mercedes took his hand. “I guess that settles it,” she whispered.

“Is there any potential that I could make you happy?” asked Hubert in a quiet voice.

It was nice to escape into his embrace after a long day and she looked forward to sharing tea and swapping books. Yet he was also running a war that she wasn’t sure she could forgive him for. “I don’t know, it’s hard to say with everything in flux.”

He looked like he was wrestling internally with what to say before he gave her hand a gentle squeeze back, “After the war, hypothetically, would you be interested in trying to make a life for yourself in Adrestia, like the one you used to dream of?” He was looking at her now with something she took for hope in his eyes, though she was sure she had to be mistaken. “With me?”

Mercedes minds’ eye was filled with her lovely daydream cottage and family that used to comfort her years ago. That place seemed so impossibly far from here and yet here Hubert was holding her hand as if trying to lead her back onto that path, albeit differently than she might have ever envisioned. Her mouth hung open in shock.

Hubert released her hand and shut his eyes, “Forget I even asked.”

“Wait, are you suggesting that you and I should pursue something more serious?” She hadn’t realized he’d be open to anything beyond some sex here and there.

Hubert looked like he had major regrets about opening his mouth. “I understand completely why that might repulse you—”

“Stop,” whispered Mercedes. She saw him turn white at her words. “Is this what you’ve wanted the whole time?” Hubert forced a nod. Mercedes closed the distance between them, “Why have you waited until now to say anything?”

She was close enough that he had to stare down at her, “Because of something a friend said to me. If there’s even a slim chance this could evolve into something more I don’t want to miss it.”

Mercedes could not help her small surprised grin. Perhaps this patrol would not turn out as completely awful as she initially thought. “What exactly are your intentions towards me General von Vestra?”

“Well not to cross your brother that is certain,” muttered Hubert with a quick look in the direction Jeritza had wandered off in. Satisfied the coast was clear he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her in close to him, “And not to cross you either now that I know how dangerous you are with dark magic.”

Mercedes buried her face into his chest with a groan. “You know I didn’t mean to do that.”

His tone softened slightly, “I won’t pretend to know what I’m doing, but for you I’m willing to try.”

Mercedes rose up on her tip toes and kissed him. The kiss she got back was far more alive and vibrant than the first one they’d exchanged. All his carefully constructed walls seemed lowered at last, and Mercedes felt a flourish in her chest as their lips parted. The reverie of the moment was painfully short lived as the clash of steel punctuated the air.

“No,” whispered Mercedes as she broke free from Hubert and ran towards what could only be her brother finally finding his mark. Hubert was faster, and he was soon passing her. Mercedes felt a desperate nausea within herself as she shouted after him, “No! Go get help!” She did not want him mixed up with Felix’s escape attempt. The less people involved the better.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” said Hubert as they finally got a view of the fight that had broken out. “ _Oh_ ,” said Hubert under his breath as he took in the fight. Mercedes watched in horror as his hand rose up with the start of a spell.

The fire ball left his hand a breath before Mercedes’ paralyzing spell sent Hubert limp and falling face down in the snow. She realized too late that the spell he’d cast was not an attack. Instead the weak fire ball had gone straight up into the air as a signal for reinforcements. Mercedes had no idea how long it would take for other Adrestians to arrive and capture her friends, or worse. She had to move fast.

The scene was total chaos as Mercedes got her bearings. The closest body to her was Ingrid sprawled out supine on the ground. She was passed out but her pulse was good and Mercedes couldn’t see any obvious wounds beyond a bruising eye. Mercedes clamped her hands around Ingrid’s head and did a rushed healing spell. Ingrid’s eyes shot open as she regained consciousness.

“It’s me,” barked Mercedes as she dodged an erratic punch.

Ingrid’s eyes were still wild as she looked around and then grabbed Mercedes by her uniform to point, “Dedue, Dedue needs you more.” Mercedes’ eyes followed Ingrid’s pointing to where Dedue was crumpled on the edge of the fight.

Mercedes pressed a vulnerary into Ingrid’s hand before forcing herself across the clearing to where Dedue was looking ashen in the snow. Mercedes began her most powerful healing spell as she worked on getting his skin closed. All the while she could feel Hubert fighting her spell. As long as he was down he was out of the fight. She had no intentions of letting him up.

Mercedes dared herself to look to where her brother was fighting both Felix and Dimitri. While Emile seemed to be handling it, the fight was still unbalanced and someone was going to die if it continued. As soon as Dedue was stabilized by her last few vulneraries, Mercedes threw herself into the battle to try and turn things around.

“Stop,” shouted Mercedes as she drew her bow and trained her arrow on Emile. Her voice cutting through the fray froze things for a moment. Hubert was pushing harder against her concentration making it difficult to keep her arrow steady. “Felix, Dimitri, you must go, there are reinforcements on their way. You don’t have time for this.”

“Mercedes, put the bow down,” said Emile. “You know we cannot let them go.” His scythe was poised to strike.

“You can always choose to let someone go,” protested Mercedes desperately. “Please, they’re my friends and you know what will happen to them if they’re captured!”

“I don’t intend to let them be captured,” growled Emile as he ignored the threat of her arrow and lunged at Felix.

Mercedes let her it fly as Felix dove out of range. Emile had trained her well and her aim hit true right into his shoulder. Painful, certainly, but hardly fatal. Emile’s face contorted in surprise as he stole a look at her. At the very least she had prevented him from lopping off Felix’s head.

“I know your face,” said Dimitri in a low rumble. “I know your face from Duscar.”

Emile’s visage turned cruel as his voice grew deep and guttural, “Then give me the fight your father failed to.”

The voice, _the bad things voice_ , rang in Mercedes ears as it spoke out loud through her brother’s mouth. She was powerless to stop Dimitri’s fury as he pressed forward. Felix spared Mercedes a mournful look before driving his own offense against Emile. “For my father, for my mother, for Glenn,” declared Dimitri as his broken spear clashed with Emile’s deadly sharp scythe.

“No,” begged Mercedes as she rushed forward towards them. She had no idea what spell to cast and her hesitation lasted a second too long. Dimitri abandoned his own rusted spear to grab the shaft of Emile’s weapon, which from her brother's startled movements it was clear he had not expected. Dimitri let out a roar as he drove Emile backwards and straight into Felix’s waiting blade.

Mercedes dropped to her knees as she saw the sword burst through her brother’s front. Felix unceremoniously pushed him off and grabbed Dimitri by the uniform, “We have to go.”

“We cannot leave Dedue,” said Dimitri resolutely. Dedue was still unconscious and far too injured to flee.

“We die if we stay,” said Felix as he started gathering up their scattered supplies.

Dimitri picked up the scythe to replace his own weapon and then circled around as Mercedes watched her brother bleeding into the snow. She worried if she moved to help him Dimitri might strike her down too, but every second was more blood lost and less chance of saving him. 

Ingrid unsteadily got to her feet, “Go, I’ll stay with Dedue.” She was clearly moving nowhere fast as it was.

Dimitri paused over Hubert’s body, and Mercedes felt all of Hubert’s fighting go still as Dimitri began to inspect him to see if he was even alive. Thankfully Felix grabbed Dimitri before he could make a decision to strike, “They don’t want Dedue, they want you. We have to go. Dedue would want you to live.”

“I will not leave him,” growled Dimitri.

Mercedes moved with precision as she shot a sleeping spell at the prince. He collapsed to the ground at Felix’s feet. “You have twenty minutes to get him out of here,” hissed Mercedes as she sprinted to Emile to heal him.

Felix didn’t hesitate as he pulled Dimitri onto the sled he’d stolen. He and Ingrid gave each other a knowing look before Felix began to haul the prince away. Ingrid limped to clear away the tracks and disguise the route as Mercedes cradled Emile’s head in her lap.

“You can let me go,” whispered Emile in the barest whisper. “You can’t save everyone.”

She had used her one precious concoction last night and all her vulneraries on her friends. Now she had nothing but her healing spells for his major wound. Mercedes felt her chest rattling with a sob as she clutched Emile’s limp hand and felt his fading pulse. She looked up at the horrid gray sky and made her plea, “Sothis, please, if you’re still out there, I could really use a miracle.” If ever she had truly needed the goddess it was right now. With that she released Hubert from the restraining spell so she could pour all her energy into her healing as a last desperate bid to keep her brother alive.

***

Byleth Eisner had his first hangover at the tender age of fourteen when he was finally allowed to drink with the rest of the mercenaries. This felt like that, but a thousand times worse. Waking had come in the form a harsh slap and a familiar voice screaming in his ears to rise. Yet he was totally alone.

His mouth was dryer than a mummy’s tit and he had a headache like the fires raining down on Ailell. He also had, a beard? Byleth felt his face again. _Fuck_. How long had he been laying here, and where was here?

Byleth sat up as a blanket of moss and dirt sloughed off him. He could hear running water all around him and the air was damp. He scanned around and sniffed, it smelled fishy. Not strange, but of actual fish. Byelth’s stomach gave a loud grumble and he realized how absolutely starving he was. When was the last time he ate?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps. Someone was coming. Byleth hazily reached around for a weapon only to find nothing. He curled his hands into weak fists. If this came to a fight he was going to lose because he felt like his muscles were barely there. There was a familiar scream as an armful of logs tumbled to the ground, “You’re awake!”

“Hey Flayn,” sighed Byleth with relief as he struggled to get himself out of the nest she had apparently made him. He had more than a few questions about what the hell was going on.

End Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've organized a Mercedes/Hubert ship weekend for January 8-10 in case you would like to participate ([twitter](https://twitter.com/mercibert)) or are otherwise looking for more content. There will be an AO3 collection.


	36. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth gets a sense of the state of things while Hubert conducts an interrogation.

Flayn was dressed differently than Byleth remembered her looking. At the monastery she had been the picture of prim modesty with her puffy black skirt and massive green ringlets. Now, she was in something robe-like that looked much more suited to being taken off and cast aside, perhaps for swimming. Her hair was also braided back revealing much pointier ears than he was expecting. She was a little dirty too, which made sense given their present surroundings within this cave, but Byleth was still less than clear on what was going on. His mind was still hazy and trying to piece together what he remembered last.

“Oh my, you must surely be in desperate need of food,” she exclaimed as she finished cleaning up the firewood she’d dropped. Flayn ran to a pile of crates and net traps and started digging around.

Byleth stretched and was sobered by just how much the little action hurt. “What is happening right now?”

Flayn froze, and turned to him with her green eyes wide, “You have just woken up from your very first nap!”

Byleth knew he had a reputation for working hard, but even he took naps, “I’m sorry, my first what?”

“A slumber, a torpor, a respite, a liminal state—”

“Flayn, I know what a nap is, I just would expect to feel more, well, rested,” grumbled Byleth as he pulled at his legs. When had they gotten so thin?

“You must be very careful,” said Flayn quickly. “You did not have time to prepare for your hibernation. You are going to be very weak.”

 _No shit_. Byleth felt like he had fallen from a cliff. He looked at his fingers and found they were downright bony. Flayn pressed some flat bread into his hands, “I will heat you some beans.”

 _Oh goddess_. Flayn’s cooking was legendarily bad. Byleth bit a hunk off of the slightly stale loaf and chewed as he watched her starting to try to make a fire at the small primitive hearth near the mouth of the cave. “Maybe we should wait for Seteth.”

“Father is,” she paused. She and Seteth confided in Byleth that they were not siblings in the traditional sense, but it was still strange to not hear her say brother. “Father is off fishing. He may not return right away.”

“So, where are we?” yawned Byleth as he tried to reach for a wineskin.

Flayn popped up to fetch it and gave it to him. It was water, not wine, but Byleth had a sinking feeling his tolerance was all but gone. “We are on the Rhodos coast right now. This was the safest place we had to go after what happened at Garreg Mach.” Her voice trailed off in sadness.

Byleth shut his eyes and pictured what he last remembered of the monastery. There had been a battle, and he had fallen. He had been fighting on the side opposite of Flayn. “When did the battle happen?”

Flayn looked shaken for a split second and then focused on her beans, “The monastery was lost almost a year ago.”

“A year?” demanded Byleth in total disbelief. Who slept for a whole year, that was insane!

“Eleven months to be precise,” said Flayn in a somber tone.

Byleth did the mental math; this meant it was Pegasus Moon, _1181_. “And you’ve just been, what, watching over me this whole time?”

“Your body needed to heal,” said Flayn softly as she salted the beans. Byleth winced, that was a lot of salt. “You were very deeply injured when Rhea,” Flayn’s words died down. She cleared her throat, “Byleth, you betrayed us.” She looked as if she were concentrating very hard upon not crying.

Byleth knew when he sided with Edelgard he was burning bridges with people he loved. He had earned the trust of many people in the Order of Seiros; Catherine, Cyril, and even Seteth had all slowly changed their tune from suspicion to friendship over the course of the school year. Then Byleth had turned around and jammed the Sword of the Creator metaphorically in their backs. However, the simple fact was that Rhea had fucked around with his mother and his father. It wasn’t enough to meddle with Sitri’s life, the archbishop had continued to mess with her in death too.

That had soured Byleth to all things Seiros. He figured once the year was through, he and Jeralt would beat a path out the place. Then Kronya had happened, which led to a direct confrontation with the Flame Emperor in the flesh.

Byleth had been ready to kill the Flame Emperor when he ripped their helmet free. The Ashen Demon wanted eye contact as he took the death he was rightfully owed. However he had not been expecting to see his most ardent student beneath that awful mask. Edelgard was normally cold, reserved, and poised. She was a quintessential ice queen if Byleth had ever met one. However, in the holy tomb with his hand gripping along the neck of her chest plate and his sword primed at her throat he was suddenly a lot more reluctant to spill the Flame Emperor’s blood than when her mask had been on. She looked much less regal with her nose and eyes running from the pain of having been so thoroughly beaten down by the knights of the Seiros and Byleth himself.

“Kill her.” Rhea ordered the Flame Emperor’s head off, but Byleth was done taking orders from that woman. He turned his whip sword upon her instead, an act akin to pointing a sword at the goddess herself. From there, a very complicated partnership between the Archbishop’s little experiment and another mutilated warrior began.

The professor and most of his house fled Garreg Mach to lick their wounds at a nearby staging ground. Hubert fretted over his lady’s injuries but she pushed him away. Whatever wounds she had would have to wait until after she discussed some very important matters with her teacher.

Stripped down to just the padding beneath her armor and gritty with blood and sweat, Edelgard looked less blue blood ice princess and almost like a fellow mercenary. Edelgard started to take her padding off and Byleth threw up his hands, “What are you doing?”

She gave him a tired glare and continued to strip. “I am the Flame Emperor because I was given the crest of Flames,” she said slowly as she exposed her bare breasts to him. There was nothing titillating about it. Instead a long line of scar tissue cut a brutal course along the center of her sternum. “They sliced me open and stuck a crest stone inside. My siblings all died from the same, but I survived to become _this_.” Edelgard pulled her undershirt back down and spat blood upon the ground. “How did you get yours?”

Byleth was told his scar was from an accident. As a kid he’d apparently tripped right into an axe; it was believable for a child growing up in a mercenary troop. He didn’t question it. Byleth cast off his armor and pulled up the bottom of his shirt to reveal the line that traced along his rib cage on the left side. He and Edelgard had much to discuss on the things that had been done to them, and what they would do to the people who had put these crests within them.

Back in the cave at present, Byleth watched Flayn stirring the beans in silence. “I didn’t want to fight you, or Seteth,” he said. It was true even if his actions had clearly declared otherwise. He had argued with Edelgard until she guaranteed that if Flayn or Seteth tried to peacefully flee, no one would chase after them. Flayn’s nose twitched but she didn’t look at him. Byleth edged a little closer, “I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me, I know the choice couldn’t have been easy.”

“Actually it was very easy. You are part of the family,” insisted Flayn as she passed him an unappealing bowl of beans. He was hungry enough that it didn’t matter how over salted or undercooked they were. He savored every bite. “You’re lucky you only slept one year, I slept,” she paused and bit her lip. “I slept for almost a thousand years during my great sleep.”

Byleth choked a little on his beans, “A thousand years?”

Flayn nodded as she folded her legs up and rested her chin upon her knees. She added some firewood onto the hearth and stared at the flames, “I did something I was not supposed to do, and it cost me greatly.” A small sad smile crossed her lips, “At least I dreamed of the sea. What did you see in your sleep?”

For as long as he could remember, Byleth had dreams of war. He could now piece together that such visions had been Sothis trying to show him Nemesis and Seiros and how this whole mess started. During this sleep he dreamed even further into the past and seen more lives than he could count. “I saw you being born.”

Flayn’s eyes widened as she sat up with an eager curiosity, “You saw me hatch? What did I look like in dragon form?”

“Green,” said Byleth as he shut his eyes and tried to recall his many dreams. It had felt like he was falling through different people in his life, Seteth, Jeralt, Seiros, and he had seen the world that used to be through their eyes. “You were this big,” said Byleth as he spread his hands apart. “Cat sized.”

“Will you tell me about it? Father doesn’t like to discuss it,” said Flayn quietly. Byleth nodded and tried to recall the scattered snippets of time he’d been privy to during his nap.

*

Ailell was a lush valley at the mouth of the eastern sea and the birthing ground of dragons. When the conditions were right, every couple decades Nabateans of a certain age felt the pull of reproduction calling them to the place of their birth. They journeyed to the shores of the great nursery to couple up in the warmth of Garland Moon and to lay their eggs that would eventually hatch over a year later beneath the rising of the Blue Sea Star. Sothis herself came to bless the eggs with life magic from her own blood, and each new Nabatean was born with a unique crest. Sky dragons, sea dragons, earth, ice, and more might appear in any given generation. It was said that ones clutch mates imprinted upon them for life, and for Cichol nothing was more true. Everyone was born in Ailell, grew up in Zanado, and then when they fully matured the world was theirs to explore.

His little nest had four eggs — Cichol, Macuil, Indech, and Seiros — and that was considered a very good yield in those early days. However this year there were twenty eggs, and Sothis was holding a celebration in the honor of the biggest clutch since she landed on this strange rock. This year’s success was a testament to how the Nabateans thrived as they took over this new world. It had been ripe for the conquering, only occupied by little short lived beasts, _humans_ , that reproduced like pests. At first they had seemed simple creatures only interested in mating and killing, but Sothis had discovered they were intelligent enough to take orders, and made perfectly good servants for the dragons. The small forms Nabateans naturally took were similar enough to the humans that it was easy to mingle and coexist, and a handful of cities had popped up in the last thousand years of Sothis’ rule. Humans were brutish and inclined to violence, but Sothis had brought them peace and a natural order.

The feast for the Rite of Birth was held to mark the hatching of the eggs. Already there was movement in the nests and bets were on to see what little egg tooth would crack their shell first. It felt like half of Zanado had made the journey east to celebrate this year, and the feast hall was extremely crowded despite the small forms they took on. Sothis, looking grand in her brightly woven braids and gilded attire, smile out at her generations of new Nabateans. She had saved their kind and given them this world, and she was greatest among them. She had walked through the darkness for an eon to bring them to this place, and it was her blood that imbued her children with their special magic.

Humans could do simple things like make a breeze or start a flame; that was simple and innate animal magic. Nabateans knew how to build flesh up from nothing and heal it with their spells. They gave this magic freely to the lower lifeforms but humans could hardly be blamed for barely grasping it. A few among them, those that held Sothis as divine, were exemplary mages, but mostly the mammals were untalented. Humans were dangerous to themselves and others, and the Nabateans agreed they had a duty to rule over these idiots for the good of the world. They let them cling to their spirits, their ghosts, and their ‘gods’ but for the dragon folk, Sothis was their progenitor, and the mother of all higher beings and magic.

Cichol was always in awe of Sothis, but it was his sister who distinguished herself with the great mother from their clutch. Seiros was up towards the front of the great hall as a cup bearer for Sothis herself, and Cichol’s sister could not be more happy about that honor. Macuil, Indech, and Cichol found themselves down on the feast floor at one of the long tables. Indech stole a horn of ale from a passing human servant who let out a surprised yelp as the vessel was pulled from his hands. The horns were supposed to fill their tiny cups but Indech’s appetite was as massive as his turtle like dragon form.

Macuil didn’t bother to look up from the book that he was somehow reading despite the noise, “You shouldn’t scare them like that. Just because they’re dumb mammals doesn’t give you the right to push them about.”

Indech groaned, “Dumb mammals? Please I’ve seen the way you treat them. You _like_ humans.”

“I do not,” said Macuil as he turned a page and ignored the insult. Only the most debauched of Nabateans would lay with a human, and their taboo accidental offspring were outcasts that could not even transform. “I merely think you are unnecessarily cruel to them. Their emotions may be simple but they can still think.”

“You know what I think?” No one prompted Indech to continue but he was getting drunk and so he barreled on through his thought, “I think you like them because they make you look smarter, but around the rest of us you’re just another dragon and nothing special—”

Macuil’s golden green eyes flicked up towards Indech, “Has anyone told you your skull is as thick as your back plate?”

“Shut your beak—” started Indech before Cichol broke the tension by stealing his own horn of ale off another unsuspecting human servant.

“You two are really going to fight at a hatching ceremony?” snorted Cichol in disbelief. His brothers could fight in their sleep. Indech was heavy and strong and had broken free from his shell first. His hair was blue like a storm at sea and his temperament was as varied as the waves. Macuil, his head as golden as his magnificent feathers, was calculating and often cold. He believed himself smartest of the clutch, though everyone clearly had their own opinion on that. Seiros was most graceful by a long shot, and most focused in her ambitions. She wanted to serve Sothis directly as one of her sworn guard. It was one of the highest honors a Nabatean could be bestowed and she was by far the most faithful of them. It was no secret she fancied herself a direct descendant of Sothis, what with her similar green hair, although if anyone bore similarities it was Cichol with his dark green coloration. Regardless of their parental origins, Sothis was the only parent who mattered. They were all her children, and she their collective mother.

Cichol often felt he was just there to complete the set. He was a plain old earth dragon, while Seiros and Macuil were suited to the skies and Indech to the sea. Cichol was decent at magic, but he didn’t care much about getting better at it. He could hold his own in a sparring match and was no slouch when it came to academics, but it always felt like his siblings were smarter or stronger in every regard. He was smallest, the runt, and he accepted his lot of following their leads.

The youths were enjoying the feast but at a certain point the pomp and circumstances got repetitive and trite. Seiros was far more interested in the ceremonies and ritual than her brothers, but even she had her limits. Seiros appeared before them to steal Indech’s ale straight from his hands. She finished it before he could snatch it back and brushed her lips dry, “Come on, my shift is over, let’s go explore.”

They stole more ale than was necessary and went to mess about in the cliffs that overlooked the thickly vegetated valley. Seiros was showing them a new spell she’d learned from Sothis herself, which Macuil studied with interest. Indech tackled Cichol to the ground in a show of his strength. They were laughing and drunkenly singing so loud they did not see the large form advancing towards them from the sea.

Eventually Indech waved at their fellow Nabatean floating in at such an hour, “Is that, is that Carach? Just like him to be late to things—”

It was Carach, another older sea dragon, in a sense. It was his body coming in with the tide but as he got closer the siblings were horrified to see oars sticking out of his sides. Something was very, very wrong. Then the humans spilled out from inside.

The clutch mates panicked and began to run back to the safety of the feast hall to raise the alarm. A Nabatean had been killed, and by humans no less. This could not stand. The humans, the horrible killers, had turned poor Carach’s corpse into a boat. It was desecration, sacrilege, and painfully wrong.

The humans reached the hall first, weapons raised, and all hell broke loose. Older Nabateans were transforming, and yells could be heard to protect the eggs. Indech started punching any and all humans he saw, with Macuil casting right beside him. Serios was running, stumbling, towards Sothis’ position. Cichol looked at the chaos and knew he would be most useful protecting the young. He didn’t trust himself to transform and be careful enough to handle an egg, so he stayed in his small form. He watched as the nearest egg at the edge of the clutch was nearly stomped on so that was the one he wrapped his arms around.

He’d run it out to the safety of the forest and run back to get another. In his head it was an excellent plan, in reality the egg was incredibly awkward to hold and a pain to carry. Baby dragons weren’t exactly small. However, Cichol persevered as he hauled the egg. Macuil stopped his magic long enough to stare, “What are you doing?”

“We have to save them,” huffed Cichol.

“You’re not supposed to move them, even I know that,” snarled Indech as he downed a human running for Cichol. The fallen warrior had been carrying something that looked sickeningly like bone fashioned into a spear.

Macuil paused to pick the weapon up, and it gave an ominous twitch before he threw it down to the ground. “What the hell is this?” No one had a chance to answer as another human cast magic in their direction.

Nabatean magic flashed green, and animus magic was red. This was purple and dotted nothingness rimmed in pure white. Cichol knew enough to read the formulas flashing and see that this was some sort of magic that inverted, or perhaps perverted, Sothis’ magic. Somehow these humans had imbued their bodies with a Nabatean’s power and twisted it within themselves. It wasn’t hard to guess what had become of poor Carach. These monsters had not only killed him, but they’d consumed his blood to steal his magic. They’d turned his very bones into tools and weapons.

Cichol felt the spell rip along his side as he shielded the egg. The magic filled him with an icy sting as he stumbled from the force of the hit. Macuil let out his own spell, instantly killing their attacker. Indech picked up the egg in one meaty arm and flung Cichol over his shoulder. It would be annoying how effortless he made it look if Cichol wasn’t in so much pain. “I’m getting him out of here,” said Indech as he hauled his brother and the egg out of the great hall.

Over his brother’s shoulder Cichol watched the humans retreating, chased by Sothis herself. She did not need to transform into her true form to destroy them. She too had seen the purple magic and that had earned her full rage. Sothis’ voice cut through louder than all other noise as she spoke a curse upon them, “Thieves! You would steal the Nabateans’ magic? Then you shall feel the misery of transformation!”

Cichol watched in horror as one of the humans holding a bone weapon began to vomit and shake as she collapsed and twisted into something that looked like a big form Nabatean but broken and mutilated. The magic casters among them began to scream as their flesh sizzled and burned. With Sothis handling the remaining attackers, Seiros punched her way through the great hall towards her brothers just beyond its doors.

Indech deposited Cichol and his foolishly grabbed egg upon the ground as they watched the end of the battle. Seiros panted as she finally reached them, “What were they hoping to achieve?” The battle had been painfully short lived.

Macuil surveyed the lingering humans being literally stamped out by the big formed Nabatean feet, “They took us by surprise, and that was enough.” A few Nabateans in their small forms were dead, and several eggs were smashed in but otherwise most of the slain were humans, servants and attackers alike.

“Look at them running,” said Indech in triumph as he watched the surviving humans attempting to retreat to their horrible corpse boat. They had failed spectacularly and Cichol felt a little sheepish holding onto the egg he probably should not have moved from its clutch. It would have likely been just fine left where it was. Who knew what trouble he would be in when he went to put it back.

As Sothis, in all her fury and rage, chased the humans out onto the water a terrible noise echoed from above them. Macuil was first to react as he transformed and pushed his clutch mates under his great feathered wings. Blinding lights filled the sky, illuminating the night brighter than any day. Beams crossed the horizon, coming from the east and heading west in the direction of their home. This had been a distraction; Zanado was the true target.

Sothis was still in her small form as she flew up into the air. Cichol watched in disbelief as she took the assault to push it back in the direction it had come from. Some of the fiery pillars rained down upon the valley striking through the surprised Natabeans and totally obliterating the great hall, the forest, and even the mouth of the sea. The heat was unbearable and Cichol felt his skin turning pink from the intensity of it. Macuil took the brunt of the force and when the pillars had finished crashing down he staggered back to change into his small form before collapsing upon the sizzling ground. All around them was wreckage and an conflagration that threatened to consume them.

Indech, his true feelings shining through, screamed out for Macuil as he ran to pick him up off the burning ground. Cichol and Seiros held each other as they watched the humans strike Sothis, weakened by the beams, with more cursed magic down from the sky. Sothis’ small form began to fall and the children of the goddess watched in horror as she dropped limp into the sea. The humans, satisfied, turned their attention to looting the corpses of the dead and slaughtering any Nabateans they found. They cracked whatever eggs had survived the blast and murdered the next generation.

“We have to fight them,” screamed Seiros as she watched the massacre unfolding. There was no way for them to cross the fires that separated them from their kin in the damaged great hall.

Indech held up Macuil’s limp form, “We need to save who we can.” Cichol had never seen his brother look so thoroughly beaten.

“But Sothis—” started Seiros. Their progenitor, as it so happened, did not need their help. A massive wave flowed into the valley to quench the flames and knock the evil humans from their dismembering. Sothis rose from the boiling sea spray as the water retreated from the shore.

Her voice was booming and could be heard for miles. “You dare kill my children? You dare drink their blood and pervert my magic?” Her fury defied containment as her eyes burned a bright green, “I will drown _all_ of your kind for this.”

Indech had the wherewithal to transform himself before the quenching seas reached them. The humans ran for their boat and a handful were even able to get in before the unforgiving waters began to rise. Cichol clung to the egg, the only survivor of this generation, as he climbed onto Indech’s shell. Seiros held Macuil close as the siblings watched the hatching grounds, and all the dead and wounded within, succumb to the flood.

They floated for hours in the darkness as Sothis could be seen in the form of a blinding blue-green light in the sky, working her magic as if possessed. Night turned to day as Indech kept up his slow pace in the direction of Zanado. Eventually Cichol could feel the movement inside the egg he was keeping warm as the little Nabatean broke its way free. Her scales and her eyes were a pleasant pale green as she looked at him and yawned. She was blissfully unaware of the madness she was born into. Cichol held up the infant in disbelief as it flicked its tail at him.

“I think you’re supposed to lick it clean,” commented Macuil sarcastically as he watched Cichol trying to wash the remaining egg mess off the fresh baby dragon. The rains pelted her, but helped get her clean. It was a rough entry into the world and Cichol offered himself as a warm source to curl up against. Macuil scoffed at the display even though he still sounded weak and wounded, “Does this make you the first Nabatean father?”

“Shut up,” grumbled Cichol as he felt the little dragon’s warm sleeping breaths against his chest. “The elders will handle this, we just have to get her home.”

“She needs a name,” said Macuil as he smoothed back what was left of his golden hair.

“No, Sothis gives the names,” said Seiros with irritation that all of this was unfolding so _wrong_.

“Fine, don’t name her. Let me know when she learns to speak and then I’ll be interested,” whispered Macuil condescendingly as he settled into his own restless nap. She needed a name, but first she needed food and so Cichol learned to fish without any tools. At least she did not require the fish be cooked because Cichol was sure Indech would not appreciate a hearth built on his back.

It took them many days to reach Zanado through the storm. The mother city was elevated high above a canyon, and the waters nearly rose to reach it. Though many begged the great mother to stop, she could not be reached to be reasoned with. After weeks the earth was flooded, and Sothis, exhausted, fell to earth a second time. The rains finally ceased but there was no celebration. The elders confirmed that Sothis had entered a great sleep. The news was devastating. A great sleep could last centuries or more, and they needed her guidance now.

*

As Byleth finished spinning the tale for Flayn he noted a small motion in the corner of his vision. Seteth had arrived for the tail end with a net full of fish over one shoulder. He was looking less like an assistant to the Archbishop and much more like a commoner, albeit a green haired one. “That is about how I remember it,” said Seteth as he set his catch down.

“So who gave me my name?” asked Flayn as she stared at her father.

“I did,” whispered Seteth as he began to gut the fish. “You used to sneeze out little smoke rings, and the sound you made sounded like _Cethleann_. I did not realize it would stick.”

Flayn gaped at the explanation, and then her eyes lit up, “Smoke rings! Does that mean I will breathe fire?”

Seteth sighed, “I cannot say.” He seemed exhausted, and much less enthused by Byleth’s waking than his daughter.

“Don’t you know?” asked Byleth in confusion.

Flayn rested her chin on her fists, “After my initial transformation I have never actually returned to that state, though I try often.” She shot a look at Seteth, who ignored the little daggers she was sending with her eyes, and then back at Byleth, “Now that we are at war it is more important than ever that I be able to assume my dragon form.”

“We are not going to war,” said Seteth as he moved onto the next fish.

Flayn bit back her retort but Byleth was too curious for his own good, “Why aren’t you with Rhea right now, did something happen to her?” It was too much to hope she had been taken care of during the battle, but he could keep his thin fingers crossed.

Seteth set down his knife and gave Byleth a weary stare. “I told her I was taking Flayn to safety and was not interested in joining the fight. We are no longer welcomed in her ranks. Rhea is also not aware we recovered you and have been watching over your sleep.” He resumed gutting the fish, “She did not seem like she wished for you to live, so I thought it best not to mention it.”

“Where did you find me?” Byleth wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Oh you were at the bottom of the bottom of the deepest chasm,” said Flayn. “We took a Wyvern down, it took days to find you. We needed to be certain if you had survived, or,” Flayn’s voice trailed off at the thought best left unsaid. “We did not wish to abandon you to an unknown fate.”

“And the Sword of the Creator?” Byleth had not seen its familiar glow nor felt its powerful pull within the cave.

Seteth drew in a long breath, “You dropped it before you were flung from the mountainside. It is in Rhea’s possession.”

 _Oh_. Byleth gulped and nodded. He supposed it was better that Rhea had her precious weapon instead of the sick creatures that had murdered Jeralt. Still, it felt like a part of him was missing. He thirsted to get it back but he had a feeling there was a long recovery ahead of him before he was going anywhere.

***

Hubert rubbed his temples as if that could stave off his brewing headache. “So you’ve essentially been camped out around Garreg Mach for months with Dedue and his highness?”

Ingrid stared at the wall behind him without speaking. Hubert scratched at the paper he was pretending to take notes upon. He wanted this to at least feel like an interrogation to his non-compliant prisoner even if he was getting nowhere with her. “Where would Fraldarius take the prince?”

 _Silence_. Hubert sighed and shut his eyes as he wondered how to shift tactics in a productive way. “How long were you plotting with Fraldarius and von Martritz?”

Ingrid was silent, although her frown managed to get deeper. Hubert pursed his lips as he tried to find the right string to pull. “Where are Dominic and Gautier?”

“I don’t know,” said Ingrid with an even stare. “They left when they thought Dimitri killed you. It’s a pity they were wrong.” Her expression suggested she hadn’t been mourning him.

Hubert laced his fingers together and let them rest in his lap. “Why didn’t you have Fraldarius take Luin with him?”

That got her attention. Ingrid straightened up and leaned forward, “What do you mean? He wouldn’t have any use for it.”

“No, but it’s not doing you any good in Adrestia’s possession,” said Hubert with a thin smile. Arundel was elated by the recovery, which in turn made Hubert miserable over it.

Ingrid’s eyes shut and she looked like she was holding back a curse. Hubert’s smile widened, “Ah. Yes I suppose you weren’t thinking clearly thanks to your concussion. We have your relic, but I imagine you might not recognize it when you see it again.”

“How dare you. It was a gift from the Goddess,” said Ingrid with a simmering rage building up in her throat.

Hubert’s smile faded and he felt his eyes narrowing in on his prisoner, “Was it?” From what he’d been reading it did not seem like the Ten Elites had liked the Goddess very much at all, which was probably how they’d ended up in the bottom of a spiked pit in the Abyss. “I suppose we can test how loving she is by if she comes to help you out of here.”

“Oh right, you don’t even believe—”

“I do,” said Hubert softly. He and Ingrid watched each other, hard stare matched for hard stare. “How can I deny the Goddess when evidence of her is entrenched all over this land? It’s never been that I don’t believe in the Goddess, it is that I _hate_ her.” Ingrid’s eye actually twitched at his admission. Hubert let his smug satisfaction at her reaction spread across his face, “People are always going on to me about the mercy of the Goddess, of her love, but I have seen her turn a blind eye on those who need her most. She lets innocents suffer.”

“You choose to cause inflict suffering on innocents,” hissed Ingrid. There was now a fire in her eyes. “This war? Duscar? Edelgard is a power hungry bitch who doesn’t give a damn who she kills.”

Hubert realized his jaw was clenching as he forced himself not to react to the slur. He took a deep breath as he tried to let the insult roll off of him. “Duscar? I’m afraid Emperor Edelgard and I were too busy with our maths assignments to find time to go commit a massacre a continent away.”

“She sent the dark mages that did it. Dimitri recognized Jertiza from it,” said Ingrid. “Even if you didn’t order it, you’re working with the same people.”

Hubert had heard Dimitri spouting that nonsense during the ill fated patrol encounter. It sounded crazy but it was difficult to shake it off knowing that Jeritza had come of age in TWSITD’s grasps. Even if Hubert didn’t know the details it felt completely within the realm of possibility. Hubert kept on a calm face, “Prince Dimitri clearly suffers from delusions.” The violent poem written in blood that had greeted them when they returned to the monastery was evidence enough that something was very wrong with the prince.

“Well, in his clearer moments he told me all about his summers spent at the Arundel estate playing with Edelgard. You know he only wanted to marry her so she could be reunited with her mother?”

Hubert found he was painfully digging his fingers into his thigh in an attempt to look as neutral as possible to the accusation, “What nonsense are you talking about? The Emperor has not seen her mother in a decade, and she certainly never spent summers with Dimitri. She did not meet him until coming to school.”

“You must really believe all her lies,” said Ingrid with a scornful look. “Perhaps your hopeless love for her has blinded you to what she really is, a _monster_.”

Hubert had had enough as he leaned back to knock upon the interrogation room door. He patiently recorded Ingrid’s ramblings as she was escorted out past him. One of the guards assisting paused, “Would you like to speak to the other prisoner today?” Hubert had been delaying this interrogation to avoid Mercedes, however he could not ignore her forever. After a deep breath, Hubert nodded and steeled himself to finally face her.

It was clear from her appearance that Mercedes had spent much of her time in the dungeons crying and not sleeping. As the guards fixed her shackles to the table Hubert gave one a thin smile, “Why don’t you take a long walk?” In so many words, he needed a private moment with her. The guards nodded and when the door shut, he could hear their footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.

Hubert didn’t have any cheap interrogation tactics or any cards he could use on her. She’d played him more skillfully than any grifter or cheat. Ingrid was right in that his love had blinded him, she was just wrong about who had been so horribly oblivious towards.

“Hubert,” whispered Mercedes with her feather touch voice.

“You will refer to me as General von Vestra,” said Hubert. He focused on his notes rather than her face. “How long have you been helping the prince and his allies?”

“Um, I, I went to their camp and removed Dimitri’s eye on the day that Caspar was injured in the Abyss,” said Mercedes. “That was my first interaction with them.”

Hubert felt his stomach pulling down within him as he set down his pencil and thought about the night that had followed. That had been when they twisted up with one another in the infirmary. Now the memory was poisoned. “Let me guess, no one mugged you in the Abyss and stole your concoctions.”

Mercedes shook her head to agree in silence. Hubert rubbed his face as he thought about how utterly devastated he had felt by the idea that she had been hurt while working in the role he’d placed her in. Now he knew it was all lies. “You must think me an idiot to have fooled me so easily. Did you only sleep with me out of some hateful urge?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” said Mercedes. “It wasn’t like that at all. You liked me, and I missed being so close to another person. I just thought we were both in need of some comfort.”

 _Comfort_. He felt his shame creeping up his skin as he thought about the foolish hopes he’d shared with her moments before everything between them crumbled. “You know, I forced myself to trust you, and now I can see that there’s a reason why I don’t have faith in people,” said Hubert as he felt his throat tightening like a traitor. “To think that wanting you would translate into you wanting me back was a naive, and now costly, mistake. Thank you for teaching me this important lesson.” His voice had turned drier than kindling. He had let her get too close and learn too much. This was so much more than an affair gone sour, it was a security crisis and it was completely his fault.

He felt raw as she stared at him. “Hubert, I—”

He raised his hand to silence her as he doubled down on his resolve. “You aided enemies of the army,” his voice had gone from choked up to business and void of any feeling, good or bad, “You immobilized one general, and attacked another. You conspired with a defector, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, to assist in the escape of Prince Dimitri. I believe that summarizes things.”

“I put that spell on you to keep you out of the battle,” muttered Mercedes. “I did it to keep you safe.”

As much as he wished to believe her, he had not felt safe when Dimitri had been circling him handling Jeritza’s scythe as if looking for the perfect spot to stick it. His heart attempted to reason with him that she did disable Dimitri with a spell before he could strike, but his mind shut down that line of thought. She had attacked him the night prior and now he could not help but assume it had all been on purpose. Mercedes was not on his side; she was an enemy and her true colors were on full display for anyone to see. “Regardless of your intentions, if you had not kept me down, your brother might not be on death’s door,” said Hubert.

Mercedes eyes brimmed with tears. “Emile is still alive?”

“If you can call it that,” said Hubert. His eye was stress twitching with a mad energy that he hoped she could not see behind his hair. “Manuela and Linhardt have exhausted all their options. He does not have long.”

Tears spilled down in her cheeks. “May I at least say goodbye to him?”

“I don’t think you appreciate your current predicament Ms. von Martritz. You are a prisoner of war,” said Hubert.

“Wasn’t I always?” asked Mercedes with a heavy lidded stare.

Something snapped within him at that truth. “Fine, let’s go see what you did to your brother.” Laying hands on her was not his style, but forcing her to look at the ragged hole she’d let her friends put through Jeritza would be its own tailored torture.

The walk to the infirmary was silent save for the metallic clinking of her chains. Mercedes was escorted by a guard on either arm, which left Hubert free to walk ahead so he did not have to look at her. The infirmary was quiet and nearly empty save for Dedue deep in a medicated sleep on one end, and Jertiza silent and still in his bed surrounded by a handful of visitors.

Edelgard sat at Jeritza’s bedside with Arundel hovering far too close behind her. “It is a pity, he was such a valuable asset,” mused Arundel.

“Please stop referring to people as assets,” said Edelgard in a curt whisper. Her eyes traced up to the sound of the chains and narrowed in on Mercedes. The Emperor stood wordlessly, her eyes filled with blame as they stayed trained on Mercedes.

Mercedes did not ask to take the vacated seat as she sat down at her brother’s side. Her chains clanked about as she lifted Jertiza’s limp hand to her forehead and bowed her head to let out a few little sobs and sorries. Hubert folded his arms and watched unaffected by the display. Where once there might have been sympathy and pity for her was left an empty void. Manuela came out to the noise of the chains and took on the comforting role Mercedes so desperately needed.

“He’s not in pain sweetheart,” whispered Manuela as she rubbed Mercedes’ shoulders. “You should say your goodbyes though, our magic isn’t enough to fix this.”

Hubert’s stomach clenched as Lord Arundel cleared his throat, “Your magic may not be enough, however, I might have a solution.” His eyes were set upon Mercedes, “Crested blood has many healing properties, if it is compatible, and here we have a perfectly suitable donor.”

“Absolutely not,” said Hubert, enraged, before he realized he was speaking out of turn. Manuela was furiously nodding in agreement and Edelgard looked blindsided by the option. This was a horrible suggestion.

Lord Arundel’s eyes flickered over Hubert and then to Mercedes still clutching Jeritza’s hand. His hand laid gently upon her shaking shoulder, “What do you say my dear, would you like to take the risk and help your brother?” Mercedes emitted something between a sob and yes as she nodded her head at the awful proposal. Lord Arundel’s cruel smile split across his stolen face, “Wonderful, we may save him yet. I’ll make the necessary preparations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On chapter 6 of this story, way back in March…User Seether00 commented that Byleth had turned traitor (implying the BL class are the heroes, debatable), which got me thinking “What if Byleth woke up early…but not with the BE class at all” and here we are. So thanks!
> 
> Also, why M!Byleth? That's thanks to a literal coin toss in an early chapter because he wasn't even supposed to be here!


	37. Gathering Storms

Annette and Sylvain departed Derdriu with Judith and her entourage to prepare for the upcoming battle. Now they watched the war camp growing from a windy balcony of the Daphnel Estate. The rows of tents nearest the manor were aligned in neat succession. Rodrigue Fraldarius had come in person with his troops, and he kept a strict camp. Annie squinted at the messy scattering of mismatched tents that were beginning to pop up on the periphery to the Fraldarius camp. “Who sent those troops?” The camp looked like a total disaster.

Sylvain gnawed on his lip, “Those banners answer to the Gautiers. I guess Rodrigue got through to my old man after all.” He looked less than enthused about it. “I guess I should probably go check in with them.”

There were others forming small camps as they waited to march towards Garreg Mach in hopes of intercepting the Emperor on her way south to Fort Merceus. It seemed not all the lords of Faerghus were willing to stay neutral despite the orders coming from Rufus Blaiddyd. The Galateas and their vassals made a small showing. Banners from Charon and Rowe could also be seen in the distance. Annie saw no familiar Dominic flags flying but that did not surprise her. Her uncle would have to tip toe an army right past Fhirdiad to get here.

“Is this really all that showed up?” Annie was disheartened by just how few troops had come from the north.

“People are scared, so they’re not sending every soldier. Rowe is too close to the Empire’s border, they probably only sent a small fraction of their troops,” reasoned Sylvain. It felt like the Kingdom was spread too thin to make a difference. Sylvain must have noticed how hard Annette was biting her lip as he tried to give her an encouraging nod, “Come on, we have to get to the war council meeting. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they look.”

The grand Daphnel dining room had been fully transformed into a war planning area where all the officers were cramming. Judith was at the head of the table looking at a large map of Fodlan, while Margrave Edmund sorted pieces to represent the various allies and enemies. Marianne hovered near the back of the room as if she was debating whether it was worse to stay here or to risk leaving.

“Duke Fraldarius,” said Sylvain with a little stiffness as he gave a courtesy bow to Rodrigue. Annie dropped into an impromptu curtsy that was probably a bit too dramatic. She was eager to impress him but feared she’d just overdone it.

“Ah Sylvain, Annette,” began Rodrigue as he tipped his head in their direction. “You don’t know what it meant to me to receive your letter.”

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to come in person,” said Sylvain. “Won’t it be risky to flout the regent’s orders like this?” It was technically treason.

From his face, Annette got the distinct impression that things were sour between Rodrigue and Rufus. The duke cleared his throat and looked out at the various representatives from Faerghus. “Ever since King Lambert died, things have been on the brink of a civil war in the kingdom. Now we face the greatest threat to Faerghus since the tragedy at Duscar. The threat is at our door, and ironically it is the lack of leadership out of Fhirdiad that has brought east and west together to respond as one force.”

Annette felt a surge of warm hope in her chest. Sylvain didn’t look quite as moved, “And who leads Faerghus when all the dust has settled?”

“Prince Dimitri, of course,” said Rodrigue without a moment of hesitation. “You did see him, correct?”

Sylvain nodded, “We did.” He gave Annette a pointed look that she wasn’t sure what exactly to do with. They had agreed that the less said about Dimitri’s erratic behavior, the better. Sylvain cleared his throat, “He’s going to need some help, some big help, with ruling if that’s your plan.”

“Of course. I am more than ready to help guide him.” Rodrigue seemed very sincere by Annette’s measure. “You did the right thing in calling us to battle. Dimitri is willing to fight against the Empire, even on his own, and we shall support him. He is our crown prince, and frankly the leader the kingdom so desperately needs.” Rodrigue paused, “Although I am glad at the very least Ingrid is with him. Enora has departed with a small force to find them, and to bring them home to Fhirdiad.”

“Oh good,” managed Annette as she thought about how terrible things had been when she and Sylvain had run. She wouldn’t be surprised if Ingrid, Dedue, and Dimitri wouldn’t speak to her again for leaving. Annette forced those thoughts from her mind and focused on the coming battle, and saving Mercedes and Felix.

As more people crammed into the room, Annette found herself being subtly moved by the crush of people in the room towards the great big map of Fodlan. “Where’s Khalid?” she whispered to Sylvain as she tried to get on her tiptoes to see better.

“Don’t know, there’s people with Riegan regalia, but he’s not here,” muttered Sylvain as he looked around from his higher vantage point.

Judith produced a golden wyvern piece and added down to the fleet of Almyran raiders positioned near Enbarr. Her voice carried louder than usual, bringing the room to heel. “In a few days time, Duke von Riegan and his Almyran raiders will descend on Enbarr. They will sack the city and then move onto Brigid in an attempt to liberate it. We expect news will reach the Emperor quickly by pegasus rider.”

_Oh_. Annette had not been expecting Khalid to just lead that attack on his own without warning. She furrowed her brow as she stared at the little wyvern piece and wondered why he just didn’t ask for help and what that meant. She really hoped he didn’t think that she or Sylvain couldn’t be trusted. They had to work together if they were going to have any shot at defeating the Empire.

Judith picked up an ebony eagle presently sitting at Garreg Mach to a wave of dissenting murmurs. “Edelgard will not let Enbarr fall. We expect her to leave with her forces from Garreg Mach to respond to the situation, at which point we will spring a trap on her when she gets out into the open.” Judith moved her own pieces around the map. “This will be a different style of fighting,” warned Judith. “We have already seen how neat lines and traditional tactics have failed. We need to think like our enemies. They fight without honor, and so shall we.” She gave Rodrigue a stolen glance as if questioning if he was going to be up to that task before returning her eyes to the map. “We will use the forests around Garreg Mach to our advantage. They will provide us cover as we surround them from all sides. There is only one road big enough to the south that she can lead her army down, and that is where we will strike.” Annette just prayed she would be able to find Mercedes and Felix in the chaos in time to save them.

Judith set the emblem of Leicester, a delicate golden deer, over the monastery. “We will take back Garreg Mach and restore things to order once more.” That elicited a great deal of affirming shouts and hollers but Annette was just left feeling a stirring sense of tension.

Later, as she practiced with Crusher her mind kept drifting to the coming battle. She feared Mercedes would be too difficult to reach, or Felix might not want to come home. She tried not to let her mind wander to the possibility that they could all die.

***

Despite ‘waking’, Byleth still felt like he was sleeping for inordinate amounts of time. Neither Seteth or Flayn seemed perturbed by the days on end that he spent slumbering. He felt like Linhardt had possessed him, and thinking about Linhardt led him down a path of thinking about all the black eagles, golden deer, and blue lions.

Byleth had to get back to them, and had to help set things right. Yet he could barely walk down to the shores outside the cave without getting winded. He felt broken and his dreams of late had taken a darker turn than usual. He dreamed of Garreg Mach looking like more of a ruin than he felt; he saw a massacre unfolding in the Cathedral and demonic beasts running rampant through the woods. He saw his students in the fray and Byleth feared Sothis was showing him all that had happened during his nap.

He missed her voice talking to him. It had startled him at first but had eventually become a familiar and welcome sound. Now he only felt Sothis’ presence in his dreams. Byleth always had the sense that she was close by when he walked the ruins of the monastery or across the ravaged battlefields that his visions took him to. However, Sothis was never with him and a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that she was up to something while he slept, and that she was part of the reason he was out for days at a time. He needed to stay awake to get stronger so that he could return to his students.

The Rhodos coast was quiet, and whatever action was happening with the war was far away. Byleth focused on healing and walking a few more steps with each passing day. Today he and Flayn had made it all the way down to the beach, though he had to sit and rest up before making the climb back to the cave.

Gusts whipped across the sands in merciless blasts but Flayn seemed unaffected by the chill. Byleth, despite the big wool sweater she’d forced over his head, could barely hear above the chattering of his teeth. Her eyes were on the waves. “My mother taught me how to swim here,” said Flayn quietly as she watched the gray water beating against the shore. “That is why I hope I am a sea dragon, swimming reminds me of her.”

“Who do you mean by your mother?”

“Not my egg layer, my _mother_. She was a human with a son who met my father and I. We became a family,” said Flayn. There was a lightness to her voice though her eyes betrayed her sadness. “We made our home here when I was very young.” Flayn pointed to the distance where a little island was dotted with stone grave markers, “That’s her, and my brothers.”

Byleth was quiet as he looked at the carefully constructed cairns. Flayn tucked her pale green hair behind her long ears and let out a tiny sigh, “I had two brothers. Aegir and Hevring. I only knew Aegir, Hevring was born after I went to sleep.”

“You said you did something that made you sleep,” said Byleth. He was learning to be cautious with what he asked about; Flayn freely told him things but when Seteth was around all conversations were limited.

“Oh, I um, I gave my mother my crest so she wouldn’t die,” said Flayn. “She was injured badly in a raid during the war. I gave her my blood to heal her, because without it she would have surely died.”

“And that put you to sleep,” supplied Byleth. He thought of what he’d learned about his own mother, and how she’d done the same for him only she didn’t wake up. He’d seen her often in his dreams as he lay dormant over the last year.

“I did not really know what I was doing,” whispered Flayn as shame ebbed into her voice. “I gave her too much, and I had to recover for such a long time. She passed away before I came out of my slumber.” She hung her head, “It’s not fair, nabateans live so long while humans barely have any time at all. Aegir and I were children together, but, he grew up and I stayed like this.” She held out her skinny, child-like arms to demonstrate her frustration.

“So Seteth gave his crest to Aegir,” said Byleth as he thought about Ferdinand’s crest of Cichol.

Flayn nodded in agreement, “He wouldn’t at first, but after I went into torpor he did it so they could all stay together for longer as a family. Hevring was a half nabatean, and he got my crest from mother, so he should have lived a long time. I wish I could have met him.” Flayn paused as a small smile crossed her lips, “I like that Linhardt has green hair like fathers. All these generations later and there’s still a sign of my brother in his kin. Seeing that was like getting proof that he was real, that he lived.” Her smile faded, “They were all killed throughout the war of heroes.”

“I’m so sorry Flayn,” said Byleth as he offered her a hand to squeeze. It was making more and more sense why Seteth had no interest in joining this newest war. He had already lost enough family to violence.

Flayn stood and smoothed out her skirt, “Come on, we should head back, father will worry if we linger too long.”

Byleth felt like he was a thousand years old as he linked arms with Flayn. She steadied him as they ascended the sea salt encrusted stairs back up to the cave. He was beginning to see its homey charm, but at the same time he was eager to leave and get back into things. Overhead Seteth’s dark brown wyvern flew freely. They were so isolated here that the wyvern was fine to roam on its own while hunting wild goats on the cliffs without risk.

Dinner was ever a quiet affair. Seteth served them seaweed and octopus soup in silence from ancient looking clay bowls. Byleth’s mind was teaming with questions from the dreams he witnessed while asleep and what lay ahead of them in the future. He supposed he might start simple, “Seteth, did you know my father from the days before he was Jeralt?” In his dreams his father had been Emperor, which Byleth was still wrapping his head around. Jeralt could always hobnob with nobles, but he was so unlike them when it was just the mercenaries on the road. Seeing him in silks and a crown was almost unreal. Yet nothing Sothis had shown Byleth seemed to be fabricated.

Seteth stiffened slightly, “I only knew him from afar. I was primarily involved with the early church, Seiros dealt with the political aspects. Your father was never a very religious man so we did not cross paths often.”

Considering what Byleth had seen, it seemed like Seiros did not separate her church from politics. In the early days she had not been Archbishop but Empress. “And Indech and Macuil? Would they have known him?”

Flayn stopped eating and was listening intently. Seteth’s eyes flashed with warning at her before settling in on Byleth, “Macuil would have. He and Seiros settled Enbarr together, but he left during the war. He disagreed with how Seiros was handling things with crests and intermingling with humans.” Seteth put down his spoon, “Indech and I were here in the north for a long time until Seiros called us to the capital. By then Macuil had already gone.”

“Do you think Macuil and Indech would join with Rhea now for this war?”

“If they’re alive? No,” said Seteth without hesitation.

Byleth nodded carefully as he decided he was done with taking small steps, he was ready to run. “Do you think they’d join with me?”

Flayn gaped as Seteth’s eyes bulged. He shut them quickly and drew in a deep breath, “I don’t see why they would want to ally themselves against the last of their kind.”

“You did,” said Byleth. “You did by saving me, you took a stand.”

Seteth scoffed and turned a dark shade of scarlet, “Hardly. We found you because it was the right thing to do. That is not the same as taking up arms against Rhea or the church.”

Flayn stared at her father with her lips set in a grim line, “Except we are _hiding_ here because of what Aunt Seiros does to those who disobey her.”

Byleth’s mind’s eye was intruded upon by visions of the executions of the traitorous members of the western church. Flayn wasn’t done, she pointed to a packed bag in the corner of their little home, “Even now, you make me keep my things packed up in case we must run again.”

“Again?” asked Byleth.

Seteth looked absolutely livid with the leak of information, “Our trail was picked up months ago by some errant knights. Alois spotted us in our last location, luckily he didn’t see you as well or I’m sure there’d be more after us.” Seteth gave Flayn a stern glare, “This too shall pass, we merely must wait it out.”

Flayn stood and matched her father’s glare, “What if I do not wish to hide?”

“You are not strong enough to fight, therefore we hide,” said Seteth, his voice unwavering.

Tears brimmed in Flayn’s eyes, “If you would merely teach me how to transform then I would be so much stronger.”

“It is too dangerous,” said Seteth as he resumed eating his soup to signal the end of their conversation.

Flayn straighted up and kept her face composed, though Byleth could not miss the trembling in her lips. Instead of taking her seat, she marched herself to the entrance of the cave and out into the darkness. Seteth groaned and set down his spoon as he walked after her. Byleth was left to hobble towards the mouth of the shelter to see what was going on.

By the time he reached it, Flayn had stripped off her clothes and was chest deep in the moonlit sea. Seteth stood on the shore with his arms crossed. “Get out of the water Flayn, you will freeze to death.”

“At least I will die doing something then,” said Flayn, though her intense shivering carried in her words. “If you will not teach me to transform, I must teach myself.” There was a brief and beautiful flash of pale green light, and then Flayn, still in her small form, slipped limp beneath the waves.

Seteth tore into the sea to chase after her shouting her name. Byleth felt useless and was only able to hold his breath as he waited for Seteth to come back up above the water. Seteth clutched Flayn to himself as he carried her out of the sea and back up towards the cave. Byleth returned to the table and averted his eyes as Seteth dried Flayn off and buried her beneath blankets to warm back up.

“We have this argument ever few months,” whispered Seteth as the salt water dripped from his hair. He took a deep breath and gave Byleth a solemn look, “If you wish to return to the war, I will not stop you, but leave Flayn and I out of your plans.” Byleth had little choice but to nod; he was far to weak to try to convince Seteth that they had any hope of making any difference whatsoever. So instead he finished his meal in silence and settled in for sleep as he braced himself for wherever Sothis would carry him next.

***

Garreg Mach was gray and dreary in Hubert’s dreams. He found himself wandering the parameter of the Cathedral as it had looked back when they’d returned late in the fall. The defensive golems were strewn about blocking the entrance, and Hubert had no desire to go inside the dark and smoking tomb within. This was a place of death and decay and his every sense was on high alert.

“Not the finest hour of the church,” said a bright voice beside him.

Hubert’s eyes traced down to where a small human like creature floated by his side. Her dark green hair was as wild as the old growth forests surrounding this place, and adorned with scattered ribbon bound braids. Her robes were the color of the midnight sky and covered with what should have been heavy golden chains that instead seemed to float even lighter than she.

Her appearance was that of a child but her eyes betrayed something ancient lurking within. “You and I are not well acquainted, Hubert von Vestra.”

Hubert swallowed and wondered if his mind was truly lost if he was dreaming of the goddess. He felt her hand slipping into his, and realized that in this dream he was wearing no gloves at all. Sothis’ unspoiled fingers glossed over his dark magic scars as she appraised them with a neutral once over. “Curses spoken in anger often have unintended consequences,” muttered Sothis. She squeezed his hand and he swore he could feel her as if this were perfectly real. “Come, walk with me.” She uncurled her legs and let them come to the ground beside him.

“This is a dream,” said Hubert, hoping that would cause it to end. He did not wish to follow the goddess anywhere.

“Obviously, how else were we supposed to talk?” asked Sothis dismissively as she pulled him through the empty, silent monastery. It seemed older than he remembered, and abandoned to time more and more as they progressed across the bridge. Yet when he looked behind him the cathedral was gone and only forest remained. Sothis chuckled at his confusion, “Don’t focus on the scenery, nothing is truly forever. That which stands today may be gone tomorrow, with new potential in its place.”

He’d never had a lucid dream before, but here he was quite aware this was all happening in his head. This was anxiety or too much coffee finally driving him mad, not a divine sign. Sothis let out a small laugh and looked up at him and winked. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, I understand,” said Sothis in an reassuring tone. She pulled him all the way to the graveyard. “There’s something here I want you to see.”

It seemed bigger than usual, with every plot now filled. Sothis tugged Hubert down the rows, pausing here and there, before finally settling at a particular stone. Beautiful lapis blue flowers grew wild down the front. “Here’s the one,” said Sothis as she pointed.

Hubert knelt, fearing what he would find when he brushed the foliage aside. _Mercedes von Martritz b. 1157 d_. ---- The date of her death was not filled in but only because his mind seemed to be blurring it out. He traced his fingers over the numbers but could not interpret what it was.

He was still stinging from what Mercedes had done, but he did not want her dead or harmed. He wished he could go back in time and tell Jeritza ‘no’ that they were not keeping her close and she would be ransomed back to Fhirdiad. He wished he had never fallen for her as hard as he did. She was in Arundel’s clutches now, and Hubert did not know how to help her. Just like he had failed Edelgard as a boy, he was failing Mercedes as a grown man.

Sothis draped her arms around him as she rested her small chin upon his shoulder, “Sometimes the streams of time get fixed in certain directions. Some things cannot be changed, and it’s looking more and more sure that Mercedes will die at Garreg Mach.” Sothis paused and squeezed him, “You still have the power to decide if it’s sooner or later.”

Hubert hadn’t felt this hopeless since running away after the Insurrection. This felt so final as if nothing he did would truly matter in the end. Sothis gave him a comforting caress along his cheek as if she could read his every thought. “You’re just a dream, this isn’t real,” whispered Hubert even as his nerves screamed otherwise.

He could hear the roll of Sothis’ eyes in her sigh. “This is a dream, but that doesn’t make it not real.” She hugged herself against him, “You are at a crossroads. You must make a choice soon to defy Thales or bide your time. Both paths will bring you a great deal of pain.”

Sacrificing Mercedes never felt like much of a choice. What Thales wanted, he took. “He will retaliate,” whispered Hubert as dread gnawed at his stomach at the idea of openly defying the regent. In his mind’s eye he saw his father and grandfather demolished by dark spikes, and then himself meeting the same fate. He saw his grandmother burning, and his friends chopped to bits as Edelgard was left completely alone with no one to support her.

“That could all happen,” agreed Sothis. “He has a vicious streak, but so do you. He underestimates your rage.” The way she said it made the cheerful childlike visage melt momentarily away to reveal something ancient and angry.

Abandoning caution, Hubert dared to look at Sothis again. Up close he could see her eyes had shifted; one was green, the other violet. She winked at him and nodded, “They called Sothis a heteromorphic vessel, and yet those fools had no idea who or what they were worshiping.”

“You’re Kauket as well?” asked Hubert as he tried to remember what Thales had called the great cloaked statue in the darkness of the Abyss.

“I am the beginning,” whispered Sothis as she turned his head back to look at the grave. “I am the ending. I am the thread that tethers time.” Sothis shut her eyes and looked up at the sky. Hubert’s eyes followed to see the full moon, pale against the blue sky. “Do you know you only see one face of the moon? You see it lit up looking bright, but never the other side shrouded in darkness. Now imagine if that other side was all you knew instead. You may come up with some very different stories about it.” She guided one of his fingers over the looping letters of Mercedes’ name carved in the stone. “We all have different sides of ourselves. We can have the capacity for revenge, but also mercy. Great love, and great hate. Sometimes even for the same person or thing.”

Hubert withdrew his hand. Perhaps he could try to both hate and trust the goddess. “Let’s pretend all of this is true, that you’re real, and you can show me who’s going to be buried here at Garreg Mach.” Hubert stared at the other graves and the vines obscuring their identities as a dread welled up within him. “What names will I see if I clear these stones?” _Edelgard? Ferdinand? Caspar?_ He wasn’t ready for this. It felt too real, like a true harbinger of death upon the few people he cared about.

Sothis picked up his hand and pushed it towards the next grave, “You’ll recognize this one. The others you don’t need to know, not yet.”

_Hubert von Vestra b. 1160 d. ----_ his mind could not make out the obscured date in the future. Hubert exhaled as he looked at it. This was somehow easier to swallow than anyone’s name else upon the grave. Yet the location here at the monastery gave him pause; if he died in battle he would at least expect to be sent home to Enbarr to rest, not left here. “Do we lose the war?”

“Things won’t go as you expect,” whispered Sothis in his ear. “But I’m trying to help you,” said Sothis as she floated in front of him. The goddess took his hands and pulled him back to his feet as the dream graveyard faded away to darkness. “I’ve been sleeping for so long, waiting, watching, finally understanding. I’ve just woken back up, and I have quite a lot of work to do.”

Anger bubbled up his throat. Fine, if his mind wanted to insist this was happening he was going to air out his darkest thoughts about the goddess, “Oh now you’ll help? Where were you when Edelgard needed you?” His face burned with shame as he thought about the Insurrection unfolding in Enbarr. His voice dropped to a selfish whisper, “Where were you when I needed you?”

Sothis cupped his chin and floated such that they were eye level. “It was never personal, I was just asleep.”

“Asleep? You tried to wipe our humans entirely at one time,” hissed Hubert. She had tried to drown the world for revenge.

Sothis nodded. “I know. But I have been living as human these last twenty so years. It’s changed my perspective on my purpose.” She lifted up his left hand and planted a light kiss upon his scarred up palm which seemed to heal away the hurt of his scars. “Like I said, nothing is permanent, including your plans. Go to her. See for yourself and make your choice about what you stand for.”

Hubert shot awake in the darkness of his room in a cold sweat. His left had was absolutely burning and his mind was swirling with the dream. He hurried to light up a candle just to make sure that he was alone. The room was empty save for his cat.

The feline cracked its one eye open to check him and then settled back into sleep as Hubert focused on steadying his breathing. His heart was racing, and he knew this had to just be his head finally cracking under the stress. Hubert buried his face in his hands as he focused on that which was rational and true to bring himself down from this horrible feeling of dread. He felt like the very last person in the world the goddess would ever want to help, and yet no matter what he tried, he could not shake the feeling of realness to the dream. Hubert paused to stare at his hands. His right looked as grizzled as ever, but the left, at the center of his palm, looked almost new. His cursed flesh had been healed by the very caster of the curse.

The implications of the dream settled over him. He was going to die at Garreg Mach, and if he didn’t do anything, Mercedes would too.

His day progressed from there in a distracted blur as he ran through schemes in his mind. Each one ended with Arundel enacting some awful revenge. “Hubert, are you even listening to me?” asked Agatha. His grandmother was giving him a choice look as he realized that no, in fact, he had not been paying attention for the last few minutes.

“My apologies,” said Hubert as he tried to focus on anything other than the blood experiment currently happening just down the hall from his office. Arundel had wasted no time at all in beginning to drain Mercedes’ life away in an effort to bring Jeritza back. “I’m listening now.”

“I’m going home,” said Agatha. “I believe I have hit the limits of my usefulness to her majesty, and besides I can do more for you both in Enbarr.”

Hubert was sorry to see her go. It had been nice to have the built in company for meals even if Agatha was on him constantly to eat and sleep more, advice he routinely ignored. Yet he also did not want her here lest she be used in some way against him. Garreg Mach was proving just how dangerous it could be of late. “I understand. Please send my regards to the family.” The sooner she was off, the better.

“You know you could try writing letters yourself, your brother can write, and your sister is learning to read,” said Agatha.

Hubert had no desire to send letters to a boy just turning ten or a girl who he could barely remember if she was five or six at this point. He exchanged enough letters already with his stepmother, who kept moaning about the meager stipend she received as if he had coin to spare her. “They cannot wish to hear from me,” said Hubert.

“Someday I’m going to be gone,” warned Agatha. “And you won’t have anyone else. They’re your family, act like it.” Hubert declined to say that he assumed that he would actually die much sooner than she would and that he preferred the people he chose to be around over connections of blood. There was no point in upsetting her with that. When he failed to respond, Agatha let out a sigh and shook her head. “In other business, Hanneman is increasingly disturbed by what’s happening to the von Martritz girl.”

“She elected to do this,” said Hubert in a soft and wooden voice. “It’s to save her brother.”

Agatha cocked her head, “Oh, so you let prisoners now decide upon their method of execution?”

“It’s not an execution,” said Hubert even as he thought of Mercedes having the blood squeezed from her like a sponge with Sothis’ warnings ringing in his head. It had been several days since Mercedes had agreed to Arundel’s offer, and Hubert was too coward to look in on her for fear that she would already be gone.

“Don’t alienate Hanneman,” warned Agatha. “He’s a good ally to have on your side, and a family friend besides. However, if you keep letting this go on you’re going to make him reconsider his service to the Empire. And you know he won’t be the only one to have their doubts.”

“I’m not _letting_ this go on,” said Hubert with an unintentional snap to his voice.

His grandmother didn’t need to say anything, her judgment was already written all over her face. “Right. I’m going to start packing, figure out how to rectify this situation. You cannot afford to lose support right now.”

Hubert waited until she was clear from his office to let out a much needed groan of frustration. He wanted to break something, Arundel’s machine for instance, or scream at Sothis for this. He thought of the Hresvelg children twisted up in the bowels of the imperial palace with Duke von Aegirs’ permission and he felt no better at all than the disgraceful former prime minister. Hubert massaged his temples as he considered what a direct defiance of Arundel would result in; nothing good that was certain. However he couldn’t put it off any longer, and he had to go see for himself what was happening.

The infirmary was filled with a strange beating noise as bellows steadily stretched and compressed. Blood pumped through hoses from Mercedes and into Arundel’s cursed looking machine. It was a tall metal structure with dials and buttons marked with strange symbols that simultaneously looked ancient and too futuristic. At it’s center there was a purplish stone glowing with a pulsing beat. Evil indifference radiated off it as it hummed and whizzed.

For her part, Mercedes looked absolutely corpse like. Jeritza looked little better than before he started receiving the transfusion and Hubert had to wonder if Arundel was doing anything useful with Mercedes’ blood or if it was just collecting it for later use. Hubert drew in a deep breath at the sight, which alerted the Agarthan mage minding the machine to his presence.

“Ah, General von Vestra, can I help you?” It was one of his remaining battalion mages, one with a nervous tittering voice and jumpy affect.

Hubert approached the bed Mercedes was stuck in, “How much longer will this go on for?”

The mage paled and spared a quick look at Mercedes. It was as if the mage could not handle the sight either. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to take that up with Lord Arundel.”

Hubert’s stomach was roiling as he looked at the needles wedged between each of Mercedes’ knuckles. Her hands could not be moved without extreme pain, and thus she could not cast even if she wanted to escape. “I need to speak with her, please step outside.”

The mage hesitated and then nodded before backing up and away from the machine. Once alone, Hubert buried back his feelings of rage and helplessness and sat at the corner of her bed. His weight shifted things enough that Mercedes’ eyes fluttered open and settled upon him. He swore they were less blue and more gray than he remembered, as if all her color was being drained away.

His anger and hurt over the actions she had taken seemed dulled and blunted away by the terror he felt for her. He didn’t have to be a healer to see that this was killing her just like his nightmare suggested. “Mercedes?” She didn’t say anything, and merely let out a small sound as her body attempted to move. She gave up trying and Hubert felt her thumb weakly graze his glove to let him know she could hear him.

Hubert leaned in so he could whisper for her ears alone, “Please hold on for just a bit longer, I will solve this.” He had no idea how but something had to happen. This was going to be much harder to make look like an accident like the broken crest stones.

“It’s alright,” said Mercedes as her head tried to tilt in the direction of her brother. “Is Emile better yet?” Her voice was hoarse and labored.

Hubert nodded and lied. “Soon, he’ll be better soon.”

“Good,” said Mercedes as her eyes shut. Her lids seemed too heavy to lift, yet a weak smile had formed upon her lips. It tore at him inside to see her placid acceptance of this awful fate. Her brother would sooner die than wish this upon her, that much Hubert knew to be true.

He had so much more he wanted to say to her, but the words were failing him. “Mercedes?” She did not answer. Hubert removed his glove and searched out her pulse in her neck. He could barely feel it. Hubert pushed her messily self trimmed bangs aside and found her skin burning up.

Hubert closed his eyes and composed himself. He was keenly aware that he was not alone; Dedue was recovering at the other end of the infirmary behind a privacy screen, and either Linhardt or Manuela were in the back room. He would be seen if he lingered and he needed perceived distance right now. He could not afford anyone linking him to the machinations currently brewing up in his mind. Hubert got up and saw that someone was in fact watching him.

Edelgard stood silent and staring. In her hands she had flowers to replace the last bouquet she’d left on the windowsill nearest Jeritza’s bed. She enjoyed arranging them, and dutifully left them at Byleth’s grave or the room filled with the portraits of her siblings. The Emperor remained tight lipped as she replaced the withering flowers for fresh ones. Edelgard’s eyes flickered between Hubert and Mercedes, and he dreaded the growing understanding in her expression.

Wordlessly, Hubert followed Edelgard from the infirmary and down the hall and around several corners to the locked council room. Hubert produced the key and they slipped inside the darkened space.

The Emperor did not mince her words. “What is going on between you two?” He had never heard Edelgard’s voice sound quite like this when speaking with him. Currents of mistrust and suspicion laced with confusion in her tone.

“There’s nothing,” said Hubert. It felt true enough now.

Edelgard gave him a knowing look, “She was the one in your room? Really Hubert, the church mouse?”

“Don’t call her that,” said Hubert as he felt his heckles raising at her judgment. It felt like his very loyalty was under fire.

“Of all the people to fall in love with,” said Edelgard as her voice trailed off.

“I am not _in love_ with her,” said Hubert as his chest grew tight at the accusation. Edelgard and the empire would always come first, even as his mind danced with plans for how he was going to extract Mercedes out from beneath Arundel’s tight grip. It was a move some would definitely view as treason.

“You’ve been off for days and I’ve been trying to figure out exactly why,” whispered the Emperor. “I did not wish to press as to why you were even out in the woods with Jeritza on patrol in the first place, but now I’m beginning to form a picture.”

Hubert was grateful for the shadows in the room because they obscured the burning in his neck at her words. “You must think that I am a fool.”

“No, not a fool, just a human,” said Edelgard, not unkindly. Edelgard stared at him and sighed, “I apologize if love was the wrong word choice. All I meant was you clearly care deeply for her.”

Hubert took a few deep breaths in the darkness and he wrestled with what to say, “You know what is happening here is wrong.”

“Oh, I know,” said Edelgard, her words cutting as sharp as any dagger. Her voice softened slightly, “Are you actually waiting for my permission for once to sabotage this?”

“I don’t have a plan,” admitted Hubert. “If we are caught taking action, Arundel will retaliate.” Saving Mercedes could come at the cost of losing someone else or even his own life. Hubert wasn’t sure that was a sacrifice he could make; Edelgard needed him just as badly for the war ahead.

“I am sick of being a puppet,” whispered Edelgard. “I am sick of smiling and accepting. Perhaps this is our opportunity to begin to flex our power and gain some ground.”

“If we lose their support, we may lose the war,” said Hubert, finally speaking aloud his deepest fears concerning TWSITD. “Then we all die for nothing.”

“Standing up to them would at least be something,” said Edelgard in a small voice, even as the same weight bore down on her. She composed herself and brought up a brave face, “They have invested too much in me, they cannot just throw me away. It is time I begin to use that leverage.”

Hubert hated gambling, but he felt backed into a corner with no other choice. “I’ll come up with something, we have to move fast,” said Hubert as his mind started to improvise what could be done in a few hours. There was some commotion coming down the hall, and Hubert paused in fear that someone might overhear their conspiring.

Edelgard gave him an exhausted look, “It sounds like we’re needed for something. Keep me posted on what you’re doing for a change, I can help you know.” They exited the room to investigate what the hubbub was.

“Your majesty,” exclaimed a breathless guard as he caught up with them. His hand shot up into a salute, “The capital is under attack.”


	38. Misdirection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best laid plans go awry

There was chaos in the war room as people were pulled and gathered from their evening tasks for the emergency meeting. Once the strike force and major officers were assembled, the planning launched in earnest. “Who is attacking Enbarr?” demanded Edelgard of the beleaguered city guard who had rode a pegasus the whole way here to break the news.

“Almyrans,” said the soldier who reeked of smoke. She looked terrible, with soot and blood down the side of her face. “They are burning the city to the ground.”

 _Almyrans_. That made no sense at all to Hubert as his mind raced over how such an oversight could have happened. Dagda would have made more sense. Never in a million years would Hubert have expected the Almyrans to sail all the way around Fodlan to attack them instead of setting upon the weakened Leicester Alliance. Edelgard’s eyes turned on Arundel, filled with absolute rage, “You should have never left.”

Arundel looked mildly annoyed but not especially remorseful that such an attack was happening on what should have been his watch. “I put Myson in charge of our interests in the capital. He will handle this.”

“General Myson is dead sir,” said the guard. A chill crept through the back of Hubert’s neck; one extra dead TWSITD was nothing to mourn but it did suggest the creatures could be killed through normal means.

Arundel became stiff and his face contorted with poorly contained fury, “Explain.”

“The Imperial Palace was attacked first and overrun. General Myson was killed in the initial onslaught,” said the guard, her voice trembling slightly under Arundel’s intense gaze.

“What _exactly_ killed him?” demanded Arundel. “I want to know the manner of his death.”

The guard’s posture shrank and she stared at her feet, “They brought weapons my lord, like nothing I’ve ever seen. There was an explosion, like a spell going off, and then a big metal ball ripped right through General Myson.”

Arundel let out an unsettling laugh that continued to dampen the mood in the room. “That must have been quite the surprise to him,” sneered Arundel. The regent stopped his chuckling, and drew in a long breath, “So the Almyrans have found a source of black powder.” His lip curled with contempt, “It was only a matter of time.”

Edelgard looked less amused as she turned her attention back to the guard. “How many casualties would you estimate there were before you left?”

The guard straightened up and looked at the Emperor, “We have evacuated as many people as possible including the Grand Emperor, but when I left the palace was an inferno. They had not yet moved into the city.”

“How long did it take you to fly here?” Edelgard appeared calm but Hubert knew she had to be boiling within.

“About six hours,” guessed the guard. With the upstream against them it would take them until morning to fly all the way back. Hubert tried his best not to think about how he would possibly manage a flight back to Enbarr. He could barely get on a wyvern let alone go airborne.

Edelgard gave Arundel a pointed look, “How fast can you warp us there?” The floor of Hubert’s stomach dropped at the notion. He had happily put their use of Arundel’s warp technology behind them when the Flame Emperor revealed herself and they no longer had to sneak in and out of the monastery. It was a nasty, chilly contraption that flooded their veins with ice and wasn’t even particularly accurate most of the time. It wasn’t like a faith spell where a person was actually controlling where one landed. Arundel’s warp staff allowed one to warp themselves, but it was like leaping through the void and getting spat back out. Hubert had nearly ended up in the middle of a solid wall once thanks to the spotty device. However in Arundel’s hands, it could move great numbers across distances impossible through normal means. It had been critical in preparing to attack Garreg Mach with a huge force appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

Arundel looked put off by the direct request for use of his powers, “Near instantly, but I am limited in the number I can carry with the spell.”

“You are going to take as many as you can, and you are going to fix this,” said Edelgard, unflinching in her glare as she addressed the regent. Her eyes traced around the room, “Hubert, you are in charge of Garreg Mach in my absence.”

“Your majesty, I should be with you—” started Hubert. The idea of Edelgard going off with Arundel into an active battle without him was unacceptable.

Edelgard stared him down. It seemed she was not just exercising her power against Arundel, but him as well, “I have told you what you will be doing. Take care of things here.” He did not miss her inflection around _take care_ of things. She was gifting him his opening to save Mercedes, but he wondered at what cost.

Edelgard gazed out at the strike force and her most trusted advisers as a plan unfolded behind her eyes. “Caspar, you are too injured still, you stay. Ferdinand, you will remain as well to help Hubert. Everyone else, with me.” Caspar and Ferdinand both looked like they absolutely disagreed with the decision but Edelgard made it clear she was not open to suggestions.

Things moved fast from there as soldiers suited up and the mobilization began. Hubert’s stomach twisted while he watched from the safety of the great hall as his friends gathered close to Arundel. Mages and soldiers representing a good chunk of their present force crowded into the tight circle with the regent at its middle. They were all clutching their weapons in the plaza one minute, and then with a vicious purple flash they were all gone. Garreg Mach was quiet as night fell.

Hubert turned and looked at Caspar and Ferdinand. He had no idea how much time there was, but this was his narrow window to save Mercedes. Hubert’s mind raced and settled upon the only thing he knew would keep Mercedes away from further harm. With his heart thumping up into his throat, he explained his improvised plan to Ferdinand and Caspar and the roles they would play.

The task of extracting Mercedes from the infirmary fell to him, though only because he wanted the extra time with her. The infirmary was absolutely still save for the strange hum of the machines. No one was left behind to stay on shift, and Arundel’s dark mages had gone with him to Enbarr. Hubert was keenly aware of every noise as he gathered up vulneraries and concoctions into an already crowded bag. The glass vials made small delicate clinking noises as they crashed into each other for want of better packing. He had no time to store them properly.

Hubert slid from the backroom and into the darkened rows of beds. Arundel’s machine cast an ominous purple glow upon Mercedes’ features making her look nearly dead. Hubert’s pace slowed as he got to her bedside. “Mercedes, I need you to wake up,” whispered Hubert as he started the painful process of unhooking her from the tethers and tubes pumping who knew what inside her while draining her blood away.

“What’s going on?” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. Bruises had blossomed upon her arms and neck in the few hours since he’d last seen her. He moved as if even the slightest touch might irrevocably damage her.

“You’re done now,” said Hubert as he braced himself for the sight of the needles pulled out from between her knuckles.

She let out a small cry of anguish before he could cast a healing spell. Hubert could not help himself as he kissed her scarred over hand. He doubted very much that it brought her any comfort, “I know it hurts, but that will pass soon.” He helped tip a vulnerary down her throat before starting on her other hand.

“Is Emile better?” asked Mercedes as Hubert forced her to sit up. She shivered in his arms as if she could not get warm.

Hubert looked briefly at Jeritza laying in the next bed. He was motionless and barely breathing. “Yes. That’s why you’re done, they’ve gotten all the blood they need to fix him.”

“Good,” said Mercedes, with a relieved smile spreading on her sleepy face. Her movements were clumsy and he could tell she was struggling with being upright. She appeared like she wanted nothing more than to lay back down and never get up.

Hubert helped her into his sweater taken from his office to protect her from the cold, and looped his red scarf around her neck. There had been no time to go to her room and pull her things and he was working with what he could find on short notice. She was limp yet cooperative as he slid her thick stockings up her thighs. He’d found them stuffed into her shoes and stashed in the nightstand next to her infirmary bed. “Come on, into your boots,” urged Hubert as he helped her to slide her feet into them. He wished he could have located her coat or anything else to keep her warm.

“Why are you getting me dressed?” asked Mercedes as she leaned against him. She didn’t seem especially suspicious of him, and her arms willingly threaded around his waist as she hugged herself around him. He doubted she would be so complicit and trusting if she knew what he was planning.

Hubert tried to keep himself composed as he draped his cloak around her for some extra warmth, “You need to stretch your legs, on Manuela’s orders. I’m just taking you for a little walk.”

“Oh,” yawned Mercedes. “I suppose you’re right about that.” He spied the soft outlines of her smile, “Lead the way.”

He began to walk with her leaning against him. It was not easy but he knew if he attempted to carry her the whole way he would not get very far. Hubert kept looking down at Mercedes and the top of her head brushing against his chest as he tried to keep her steady. They were almost to the door of the infirmary without issue.

A darkened mass shifted and then blocked their way. “What are you doing with Mercedes?” Dedue _sounded_ terrifying, but knowing that he was barely mended from nearly dying in the woods helped to temper Hubert’s anxiety. The hunched way Dedue was standing now betrayed how much pain he was still in.

“I’m getting her out of here,” whispered Hubert as he reflexively reached for his closest knife. He had little doubt about his ability to drop Dedue in his present weakened state, but it was best to avoid the unnecessary fight.

Dedue did not stand down, even as he swayed with fatigue. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It’s fine Dedue, he won’t hurt me,” said Mercedes in an almost lackadaisical voice. Dedue stared at her with a difficult to read mix of confusion and worry.

Hubert’s hand came up around Mercedes’ ear as he pressed her other ear into his chest. He hoped she could not hear him, “This is killing her. She cannot stay here.” Dedue’s fists were still up and ready to fight. Hubert doubted Dedue would ever trust him, so he tried his best to appeal to the other retainer’s better nature. “I know you care about her, I do too. I swear I’m getting her as far from here as possible.”

Dedue’s fists finally lowered. “You’re really letting her go?”

Hubert nodded, “I have to do it while everyone’s gone and make it look like an accident. There’s not much time.” They exchanged no more words as Dedue stepped aside, and Hubert shuffled away supporting Mercedes.

Getting out of the building was tricky, but eventually Hubert figured out how to maneuver with Mercedes still clinging to him. She hummed a little hymn softly as they strolled, and Hubert could almost let his stress fade away for a precious moment spent with her. “How far are we going?” asked Mercedes as they passed through the main building and towards the Cathedral.

“Not too far,” lied Hubert. He was not going far, but she’d be traveling hundreds of miles.

“Are you still angry with me?” Mercedes’ voice was small as he caught her staring up at him. She appeared so focused on him it was jarring.

“No,” said Hubert as he kept his eyes primed for passing guards. Witnesses could compromise the story he was brewing about her dying.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” murmured Mercedes. “I had to protect my friends, I never meant for things to happen the way they did.” He wished he could erase all the guilt ebbing into her voice.

“You don’t owe me an apology.” It stung, but her behavior all made perfect, logical sense to him. She was surviving in a hostile place he’d trapped her in.

He could not imagine the remorse she had to feel for landing her brother on death’s door. He wondered when she would realize that he’d pulled her away before she could sacrifice herself to save her precious Emile. He doubted very much she would forgive him, but also that it hardly mattered when all was said and done. They’d be too far apart for him to see her grief.

“Do you think you and I can start fresh with each other?” asked Mercedes, her voice almost dreamy in its inflection. She sounded like she was falling asleep, and with the way she was staggering he believed she might not make it to the rendezvous point still conscious.

“Yes, of course,” lied Hubert. His throat was tight as he focused on her presence against him. He wasn’t going to be feeling it any longer and so he planned to savor this moment as long as possible.

“Good,” whispered Mercedes as she leaned even more into him. Her footing was getting uncertain and sloppy and Hubert had a feeling she’d might pass out at any time. “I’m not sure I can go much further,” whispered Mercedes as she slowed. “I think I should go back to the infirmary, I don’t feel well.”

“I’m sorry but we cannot stop,” said Hubert as he pulled her along. She was becoming less cooperative as they got closer to the bridge. Hubert finally gave up trying to force her to walk and hoisted her up into his arms. She was lighter than he remembered her being, and all of Ferdinand’s incessant training was paying off.

“Where are we going?” asked Mercedes, clearly now confused by his determination to keep her moving.

“To the Goddess tower,” whispered Hubert as he stepped onto the bridge towards the dark and ominous Cathedral.

“Oh? Do you have something to confess?” asked Mercedes in a light and playful voice as her head nuzzled against his chest. Hubert tried to hard to ignore how right it felt to have her there.

“Yes, I do,” said Hubert with a heavy heart. How could he tell her what he feared to be true, that Edelgard was right when she accused him of being _in love_ with Mercedes? He suspected it was worse than that; he was not actually in love, but merely wanted to be. He’d clung onto the nearest person who’d offered him any shred of interest. The truth was there was nothing between them but a broken affair built on an imbalanced foundation. They never stood a chance.

Instead of that he settled on something easier to say out loud while knowing she was unlikely to remember the exchange. “I wish we might have been on the same side of this war by choice.” Hubert hugged her against himself, “But we are not, and the allies I find myself tangled with are quite bad for you.” He paused to let out a defeated laugh, because it was all he could do at this point, “If they don’t kill me for this, it’ll be their biggest mistake.” His horrible dream of Sothis echoed in his mind. The Goddess wanted him to kill Thales, and that was perhaps the one religious calling he could answer.

Mercedes was so quiet he wondered if she had finally passed out. If anything, that made it easier to continue talking, “I hope you enjoy a very happy and long life with someone good who will love you like you deserve. All I can offer you is a grave.” He stared up at the starry sky as he finished crossing the bridge and began to hobble up the stairs. “It won’t end well if you stay at Garreg Mach.” As he rounded the corner to the meeting place, Hubert paused and let Mercedes down to her feet. “Do you understand? You cannot come back. There won’t be anything here for you but death,” whispered Hubert. He pulled her family relic free from his pockets and placed it around her neck. It was a last parting gift and the final salt in Arundel’s eye.

Mercedes looked down at it and then back up at him with tears in her eyes as if she was beginning to understand what was happening. “Where are we going?”

“We are not going anywhere. I’m staying here, and you’re going home,” said Hubert as he cradled the side of her face. He wanted badly to kiss her, but so much had happened that it did not feel right to do. Instead Hubert ushered Mercedes towards her ticket home.

Caspar held the reigns of a snow white pegasus outside the Goddess tower. Ferdinand was sneaking up another set of stairs with a prisoner who had a cloth bag over her head. Ingrid struggled and kicked ineffectively until Ferdinand removed the bag. Luckily he’d gagged her too, or else she’d probably have woken up all of Garreg Mach with her protests. Ingrid grew very still as she looked between the pegasus and Mercedes limping closer in Hubert’s arms.

Ferdinand untied Ingrid’s restraints as Hubert got close enough to pull off his satchel to offer it to her. “There’s food and healing potions inside. I did what I could to recover Luin.” The last thing he needed was Arundel having access to any extra dragon bones.

Ingrid’s hands trembled as she lifted up the flap and looked at the broken relic inside the bag. The crest stone was gone, and the pieces of the lance head were shattered with no hope of going back together without some ancient smithing secrets. Hubert had little patience for Ingrid to process her loss. “Mercedes needs expert healers, you must take her somewhere far away from here.”

“What about Dedue?” snapped Ingrid, her fire returned tenfold now that her relic was shattered. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Dedue has no crest, he’ll come to no harm, but you’ll both die if you stay here,” said Hubert in a snarl. There was no time to negotiate. Besides, two riders on a pegasus was pushing it enough. There was no clean way to get Dedue away and make it look like an accident.

Ingrid gave him a hardened stare and then relented, “Do I have your word on that?”

“Consider it a trade, someone you care about for someone I care about,” whispered Hubert as he looked down at Mercedes, who just looked afraid and overwhelmed by what was happening.

Ingrid appeared as if she wanted nothing more than to kill him where he stood, but nodded in terse agreement. She mounted the pegasus and Hubert had to let Mercedes go as Ferdinand started to help her up and into Ingrid’s waiting arms. He felt the finality of their relationship settling into his bones as she was pulled from him.

“Hubert, what about my brother?” asked Mercedes, finally beginning to panic. She reached for him and against his better judgment he let her get a hold on him. “What will happen to him, to you?”

“Goodbye Mercedes,” whispered Hubert as he kissed the back of her hand one last time. Ingrid was not interested in letting it turn into a heartfelt farewell as she spurred the pegasus up and into the air. Hubert’s last sight of Mercedes was the disorientation in her eyes as she realized she was leaving Garreg Mach, and him, for good.

Soft white feathers filtered down upon the trio left behind as the pegasus ascended towards the stars. There was silence outside the Goddess tower while Hubert watched Mercedes getting smaller and smaller on the horizon. To Caspar and Ferdinand’s credit, they had not questioned Hubert much about why they were setting two valuable prisoners free. It was telling that they accepted direct treason as the morally right decision. Hubert appreciated their silence while it lasted.

Ferdinand cleared his throat, “What now?”

“We must move quickly,” said Hubert as the next phase in their plan took effect. Ferdinand and Caspar’s job was to wreck Ingrid’s cell as if the young woman had summoned out sized strength and pulled the bars apart. Hubert’s objective was getting his grandmother as far from Garreg Mach as possible before Arundel returned to the farce of Mercedes’ death and Ingrid’s escape.

Agatha paused her packing as soon as the news of Enbarr’s attack reached the monastery, but now Hubert was shoving her things into trunks. “You must get out of here,” he insisted as he rushed the job. “I’ll pack up anything you miss, but you must go now.”

“Well of course I want to go back, it’s my home, but why are you so insistent I leave while Enbarr is still under attack?” demanded Agatha as she refolded the clothes he’d just carelessly tossed into a pile.

“You cannot be here when Lord Arundel returns,” said Hubert as he continued his packing rampage.

“But why? What are you not telling me?”

Like she enjoyed reminding him, she had taught him how to lie. Hubert took a deep breath and did his best to appear confident with his actions. “I’ve done something, and I cannot have you here to be used as potential leverage against me,” said Hubert. He must have sounded desperate by the way his grandmother grabbed his arm and stared at him.

“What did you do?” Agatha’s question hung in the air like a sentence being passed down.

“I did what needed to be done.” He paused and looked at the locked door and then back at his grandmother. He couldn’t let her go without the truth, “I saved Mercedes von Martritz. Arundel will suspect something, but for all intents and purposes she was killed tonight by his unattended machine. Under no circumstances can he discover the truth.” Agatha grew ashen as she nodded. Hubert allowed himself a much needed sigh. “I will deal with this, but the farther away you are, the more at peace I will be. With the both of you gone from here, he’ll run out of things to hurt me with.”

Agatha pulled him into her arms and Hubert was shaken by how badly he needed a sign of affection. “I warned you not to get involved with that girl,” whispered Agatha, half laughing, half crying.

“I know,” said Hubert as he thought about how all of this might have been avoided if he had kept his distance. He pulled back and looked at Agatha, “It was worth it, even with the painful parts.” His grandmother looked like her heart was breaking for him, but there was no time to dwell on it. Hubert resumed his furious packing, and by midnight he was watching his grandmother’s carriage departing in a mad rush with a host of soldiers in the direction of Enbarr. Hubert had no time for sentimentality. He had a fake grave to dig.

***

There was an unusual amount of excitement growing in the scattered forest war camp as Annette responded to a summons to the planning tent in the early hours of the morning. Soldiers and a carriage had been captured while fleeing from Garreg Mach in the dead of the night. Annette wasn’t sure who she was expecting, but a sour faced old woman was not it.

Margrave Edmund’s arms were folded as he matched the old woman’s glare, “What do you mean the Emperor is already in Enbarr?”

“As I said, she warped. What, do they not have mages in the Alliance?” demanded the woman. Her thick Enbarr accent grated upon Annette’s ears.

Judith and the Margrave exchanged looks. Warping all the way to Enbarr was simply impossible, but Annette knew many short jumps could get the Emperor there before Khalid finished his assault on Enbarr. Judith’s nostrils flared as she paced, “How many soldiers are at Garreg Mach?”

“A thousand,” said the woman with full confidence.

“You’re lying,” said Margrave Edmund, clearly annoyed. A thousand was far more than they’d planned for. If true, it meant a sure loss for them.

Annette edged her way to Sylvain’s side. “What’s going on?”

“We captured Hubert’s grandmother,” muttered Sylvain. He looked like he’d been woken up from a deep sleep to be here and was not happy about it.

Suddenly the sour face made sense and Annette found herself unable to see Hubert’s familiar off putting visage plastered on the old woman’s face. Judith continued to pace, “If the Emperor is not there this throws our plans out of order.”

“She will return,” said Rodrgue.

“You have no idea if that will be the case,” said Judith. She rubbed at her brow and looked like she might punch the next person to interrupt her. “Fort Merceus is closer to Enbarr, and for all we know the bitch’ll go straight there when she’s done.” If that happened that placed this little slapped together force into a precarious position in enemy territory.

“We can storm the monastery and take it while she’s gone,” said Rodrigue, not backing down.

“That’s suicide,” argued Margrave Edmund. He shot Hubert’s grandmother an ill tempered look, “I doubt they have a thousand troops there, but even if they only have a hundred, it is a well fortified structure that can easily withstand a siege. We don’t have the supplies to wait them out. We should march south and join the Gonerils in attacking Fort Merceus.”

“The Gonerils have yet to even leave to capture Myrddin,” hissed Judith. “The timing is all off. We must retreat and reform our plans.” It was a conservative strategy but Annette, against her wishes, found herself sympathetic to Judith’s position. The Daphnel’s had already lost many soldiers to this war, and their home was presently undefended. Annette would probably do the same if she didn’t have people within the monastery’s walls.

“We are here, Garreg Mach can be captured. The Empire did it, and so can we,” said Rodrigue with full confidence.

Judith stopped her pacing and turned on her heels, “The Empire brought their full army to take this place and just barely managed to.” Scenes of war flashed in Annette’s mind as she remembered looking out at the massive force the Empire had brought with them a year ago. She remembered ducking as her former friend Ashe shot a warning arrow in her direction. That battle haunted her nightmares, and pulled at her stomach now as she realized she’d be reliving it soon enough if Rodrigue got his way.

Rodrigue slammed his fist into his palm, “My son is inside those walls. I will not retreat without him.”

“He could be in Enbarr for all we know,” said Judith, clearly incensed by the challenge to her orders.

Rodrigue turned to their prisoner, “My son, Felix Fraldarius, defected to the Empire. Do you know if he is at Garreg Mach?”

“Fraldarius,” repeated Hubert’s grandmother with a stony expression. She clearly did know him, and that made Annette feel sick. “He caused quite a stir trying to aid your crown prince in the woods here.”

The tent dropped to silence as Rodrigue got into the old woman’s face, “What happened?”

“A confrontation. It ended with you son and the prince fleeing and leaving behind some of their party to be captured,” said the prisoner with a self satisfied smirk. Annette was afraid to breathe.

“Who?” Rodrigue practically spat the question.

“I believe her name is Galatea, and then a young man from Duscar,” said the old woman.

Dedue. Ingrid. Annette wanted to vomit at the thought of more of her friends stuck in an Empire dungeon. Beside her Sylvain had grabbed her hand and squeezed. Judith stopped moving and shut her eyes at the news. “We are _not_ attacking Garreg Mach,” said Judith with an air of finality. “We march back to the Alliance and help to take Myrddin and then on to Merceus.”

“You do not command my troops,” said Rodrigue with warning in his words. “I thought we were here to restore order.”

“We’re here to win, not sacrifice ourselves,” said Judith. She folded her arms, “The plan was to kill the Emperor on the road. She’s not here, and I’m not sticking around in the goddess damned woods with the hopes she’ll come back. She could just as easily go from Enbarr to Merceus, and then attack the Alliance when it’s not fully defended. I will not leave my home open for the taking.”

Rodrigue exchanged some looks with various soldiers from the kingdom. He bowed respectfully to Judith, “We are going to capture Garreg Mach. It is a key entry point to our borders, and the sooner it is secure the safer the Kingdom will be.” He straightened up, “Besides, they have taken Faerghean nobles as prisoners, and Prince Dimitri and my son may still be close by. I will not leave not leave them here to the elements and potential capture.”

Margrave Edmund and Judith glanced at each other and then began to argue with Rodrigue. Sylvain put a hand on Annette’s shoulder as the noise level in the tent grew. She could barely hear him over the dissenting arguments between Alliance and Kingdom officers, “Well at least Felix is hopefully headed towards Fhirdiad. Maybe we should too.” Half the army they’d brought seemed keen on leaving before the fight even happened.

“Not without Mercedes,” said Annette under her breath as she ducked under his hand and weaved her way through the crowd. She heard Sylvain behind her, trying to keep up.

Hubert’s grandmother did not look especially dangerous, mean certainly, but the many ropes restraining her seemed excessive. Annette paused before the older woman and cleared her throat. “Can I help you or are you merely here to stare?” asked the old woman. Oh Goddess, yes this woman was definitely related to Hubert.

“Um, my friend was a prisoner at Garreg Mach, Mercedes von Martritz, I was wondering if you knew anything about her?” asked Annette. It was hard to hear over all the arguing happening in the tent.

“She’s dead,” said the prisoner without sugar coating it. That Annette heard crystal clear.

Annette felt like the ground had broken up beneath her and swallowed her whole as she stared in silence. She breathed in and out for a few moments before bolting from the chaotic tent and out into the night. Annette ran and ran until she was far away from anyone else and let her knees fall softly into the snow.

Annette bawled. She was too late and now Mercedes was _dead_. She had failed her best friend. Annette wasn’t sure how long she laid there wishing to freeze to death before Sylvain came to scoop her up and take her still sobbing and trembling back to her tent. He didn’t insult her with platitudes or false hope. Instead he tucked her into her bedroll, “Rest up Dominic. We’ll join with Rodrigue, and we’ll have our revenge.”

***

Hubert, Ferdinand, and Caspar had gotten no rest and all looked equally miserable as they took a well deserved breakfast together. They had successfully dug a grave and loaded up a coffin filled with rocks. It just needed the dirt thrown on.

Hubert stared into his coffee mug and tried not to picture Mercedes being flown far away from him. She seemed so scared and confused in those final moments, and could only imagine what the flight was like for her.

“What was Mercedes to you?” asked Ferdinand, finally breaking the long silence between them.

“A mistake,” whispered Hubert as he wished he could lift the memory of her touch from his mind. He should have never kissed her hand in front of them. There were many things he shouldn’t have done. “Please don’t bring her up anymore.”

Ferdinand and Caspar exchanged looks but said nothing to that. “How long do you think things will take in Enbarr?” asked Ferdinand as he dully stirred some cream into his tea.

“I cannot even begin to guess,” said Hubert, grateful for the shift in topic. He supposed it depended upon the Almyrans intentions for the capital. It seemed so random that Hubert could barely grasp at their motives let alone their plan. Yet they had killed Myson, and he supposed he ought to be thankful for that.

“I can’t believe Edelgard left _me_ behind,” said Caspar, still clearly sore about it. His recovery from being attacked by ghosts in the Abyss was still ongoing. “They’d be done faster if I was there.” Caspar could barely hold his arms comfortably above his head for more than a minute, he’d be a wreck in battle.

Hubert ignored him and focused on Ferdinand’s question, “I presume the Emperor will warp back as soon as things are settled.” He had no idea if that would be hours, days, or weeks. The longer the better, unfortunately. It allowed him to believably separate Ingrid’s miraculous escape from Mercedes’ untimely demise. He wondered if they were still flying, or if Mercedes was in better hands now. He pushed his food listlessly about his plate as he thought about how weak she was because of what he’d allowed to happen to her. He hoped when she came to her senses, she’d put him and all his missteps firmly in her past and move forward with her life.

Hubert did not like the expression on Randolph von Bergliez’s face as the officer approached their table. Hubert braced himself for bad news. “What is it now?”

“We are under attack,” said Randolph, grim faced and not joking.

Hubert blinked as the news settled in. “Who is attacking us?”

“It looks like they’re flying banners from the Kingdom,” said Randolph. “I recognized symbols for Fraldarius making up the bulk of them.”

 _Wonderful_. “Are they at the north gate already?”

“The southern one,” said Randolph, still not joking. “The villagers are being evacuated into the monastery’s walls as we speak.”

Ferdinand rubbed his eyes as if checking to see if he was actually sleeping. “There are Kingdom forces, approaching from the south?” First Almyrans in Enbarr and now the Kingdom coming from the wrong direction? Hubert wondered if he was going crazy or if this was a coordinated assault. He was almost hoping for insanity over a union of the Kingdom and Almyra’s forces.

Randolph nodded, “We’ve started the preparations for a siege.”

Edelgard was going to be warping from one battle straight into another. Hubert’s heart rate began to increase out of control. He grabbed Caspar by the shoulder, “You want to prove how useful you are? Take a wyvern to Fort Merceus. We need reinforcements, _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original outline, Hubert and Mercedes had not even hooked up yet at this point -- they were just about to and then poof! pulled apart -- so, don't worry, they do in fact meet again. At least Constance and Hapi are in Fhirdiad (also, Rhea and Cornelia and maybe some others).
> 
> Happy 2021, see y'all for a big, messy battle next chapter.


	39. Chivalrous Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahem *taps the minor character death tag*

Time jolted by in a dizzying blur as the Adrestians prepared for a battle they were most certainly not favored to win. Hubert and Ferdinand stared out at the Kingdom forces at their threshold from the front of Garreg Mach’s high outer walls. In the distance they could just make out the canvas of tents set up in the night and unnoticed in the bustle of responding to the attack on the capital.

“Well, at least there aren’t more,” said Ferdinand as he worked on fixing his growing hair out of his eyes.

Hubert leaned on the parapet while trying to do another estimate of how many people were hidden in the forests. He was coming up with well over a hundred soldiers surrounding them, and those were just the ones he could see. He suspected far more were waiting out of sight. The Empire had maybe two hundred troops left at Garreg Mach, and most were hardly soldiers at all. They had been primarily craftsmen brought in to seal up the Abyss. Their main fighters and healers were all in Enbarr and the bulk of the army was split between Fort Merceus and Arundel’s lands. Even if Caspar got to Fort Merceus as quickly as possible and raised the alarm, unless some TWSITD mages had a convenient warp panel or there was a wyvern corps ready to go, there would be no help for a solid week.

“We have enough food for months. We have numerous archers, and we have plenty of arrows,” said Ferdinand with unwarranted confidence. “We need only wait them out until help arrives. You and I can hold this place. That is clearly why Edelgard left us in charge.”

“I believe her majesty left me in charge,” said Hubert dryly. He was secretly grateful Ferdinand was here, but he would never admit such a thing to von Aegir.

Ferdinand was correct that in terms of a siege they were set. Yet Hubert had a gnawing anxiety that the Kingdom had something up their sleeves or else they would not be so bold as to attack a major fortress with such a small force. They either had information that Garreg Mach was horribly under defended, or had some secret weapon ready. Given the sheer number of Fraldarius flags flying Hubert didn’t have to guess that Felix’s treachery might have involved communication home. That meant the Kingdom forces probably knew they were going up against a bunch of carpenters and decrepit Abyssians.

Hubert had immediately sent word to Enbarr by pegasus rider about what was happening, but he had no idea if his messenger would reach Edelgard before she and the rest of the Strike Force headed back. In the meantime, every empire soldier at the monastery was at work. Nearby, some were preparing boiling oil along the walls to dump down on anyone brave enough to scale them. However, Garreg Mach had a lot of walls, and there were simply not enough soldiers to man them all. There would be gaps, and all it would take was a few stray kingdom forces to find them, get inside and open up the main gates for the waiting army.

Hubert was going to stick with bluffing until then. A parlay was scheduled to occur in the now evacuated village at the Kingdom’s request. Offering a chance to surrender was in many ways the proper thing to do prior to battle, although the Empire often skipped that courtesy. Hubert now knew the uncomfortable fear of being on the defensive, and he did not enjoy it. He would never be in this position again if he could help it.

Until that damned meeting, Hubert’s task was to sort out where all the displaced villagers were supposed to wait. These were people who knew how to flee and they wore their most valuable possessions upon them betraying their lack of faith in the Empire’s ability to hold this place. “Send the children, elderly and infirmed into the Abyss, it’s the safest place,” ordered Hubert as he looked at the rag tag Abyssians crowding into the great hall.

The Abyss had withstood the Immaculate One stomping around overhead, and Hubert was sure it could handle whatever the Kingdom was bringing today as long as they did not breach the walls. However, it was sealed thanks to him and there was no escaping once down there. Hubert hoped he had not inadvertently turned the place into a ready tomb. “Anyone who can fight should. This is your home, we must all work to defend it.”

There was some grumbling and murmurings to that suggestion. Hubert was not a people person but he had watched enough of them to understand the basics. “All drinks are on me at the Wilted Rose tonight for anyone who fights.” That did seem to help sway a few to his cause.

Yuri slid in beside him like a greased up weasel, “Clever offer, that should net you a dozen.”

Hubert knew Yuri had far more than a dozen tested fighters in his gang. Hubert narrowed his gaze in on the vicious mockingbird, “And if not free drinks, what do I need to offer you?”

Yuri just shrugged noncommittally. “For starters, I’m coming to your little negotiation. I’d like to see what the other side’s got to say.”

 _Of course_. “I promise you whatever intentions the Kingdom has for this place do not involve protections for your people. How many of them are here because of Faerghus?” Hubert needed the support of Yuri and his gang or he was definitely going to lose Garreg Mach.

“Oh I don’t disagree,” said Yuri in a thin voice as he watched his people dispersing towards the safe and familiar underground. “I saw Rowe banners out there, I’m just curious.” Hubert sensed some bad blood there, and hoped it was poisoned enough to keep the slippery mockingbird from shopping for new allies. “But don’t get ahead of yourself thinking only Faerghus sends people underground. The Empire caused its share of grief even before this war.” His eyes lingered upon a group of Duscarians before tracing back to Hubert.

He had no defense for that. What TWSITD had done to the Hresvelgs, to his family, to Duscar, and beyond made his blood boil and left a bitter hole that filled with disdain with regards to Rhea’s inaction. The Church had given these people a place to hide away but had never addressed the things that made them run. Hubert hoped, albeit loftily, that Edelgard’s Adrestia would make a Fodlan where none of these people had to hide at all. However he was never going to live to see it if they failed today. He wished he had the words to get Yuri to see that future and help their cause. For now he would just see where cooperating got him.

Walking out to the felt like an ominous midday duel as Hubert found himself between Ferdinand and Yuri. Yuri had a thin rapier at his hip and those strange turned up shoes of his. He’d look funny if Hubert didn’t know how absolutely deadly he was. Behind them were archers who would hopefully put out anyone trying to kill them, but Hubert wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Among the Kingdom forces there were flags for not just Rowe and Fraldarius, but Charon, Galatea and some symbols Hubert did not immediately recognize. Notably, there were no Blaiddyd soldiers. It suggested this was not a sanctioned attack, hence the paltry numbers, but Hubert feared it was only the start. Almyrans in Enbarr, the Kingdom at Garreg Mach. Hubert felt it was all connected, and he half expected Caspar to come back telling him Fort Merceus was being razed by Leicester. They could not fight a multi-front war, especially if Arundel realized Hubert’s sabotage concerning Mercedes.

“Alright, let us engage with our visitors,” said Ferdinand with bright confidence as if this were a social call and not a mounted attack. “Perhaps we can negotiate something.”

“I don’t think they’re interested in anything other than unconditional surrender,” said Hubert coolly as he mentally prepared to deal with whoever was leading this army.

The group they were approaching was all up on horseback, which made their leader tower unpleasantly. His blue hair and scant mustache gave him away as a Fraldarius, and Hubert wondered if he was only on his horse to hide how short he was. It was effective if that was the case. The whole group dwarfed the handful of Adrestians come to parlay.

“So the Emperor left children in charge of Garreg Mach,” snarled an ancient looking fighter.

“Ah Gwendal,” said Yuri with a smile. “You’re a long way from home.” Gwendal was a storied fighter from Rowe and known to Hubert as someone he did not wish to engage in combat. The aging warrior gave Yuri a choice look but said nothing further. Hubert dared to hope their prickly interaction boded well for him.

“Let us not be rude,” warned the one in charge. He turned his attention to Ferdinand. “I am Duke Fraldarius.”

Ferdinand was in charge of talking because he was sure to better at it than Hubert. He bowed, which felt too polite for this setting, “I am Ferdinand von Aegir.” He paused and straighted up with a smile, “Duke Fraldarius, it appears you are joined by some houses of Faerghus, but not all. Is this a declaration of war on Adrestia, or are you acting on your own accord?”

“Adrestia has already declared war on us,” said Rodrigue, looking less than amused by Ferdinand’s verbal tactics.

“Technically, we have only formally declared war on the Church of Seiros and the Leicester Alliance,” said Ferdinand as nicely as possible.

“What about Gaspard?” demanded another man. He looked vaguely familiar and it took Hubert a few moments to make the connection to Catherine and house Charon. This person could easily be her father or maybe even grandfather. Looking out at the faces Hubert was beginning to see an aging force. With the exception of Sylvain and Annette, it seemed the average age of those in charge was well past fighting prime. That could mean they brought plenty of experience to this battle, but Hubert hoped it meant they brought fatigue and arthritis or a quickness to retreat.

“The Gaspards are all dead thanks to the Church and Kingdom, those that supported them willingly joined our cause,” said Hubert. The people of Gaspard had already been in rebellion against Church and Kingdom, and swaying them was simple. He trained his eyes on Rodrigue, “Much like your son.” It was time to find out if Felix had sold them out in addition to fleeing with Dimitri.

“I have heard my son is no longer with you,” said Rodrigue. Behind him Hubert spied Sylvain and Annette giving extra stony faced glares in his direction at that news. Annette looked absolutely terrible, puffy eyed and red faced, and Hubert could only hope she hadn’t gotten enough sleep before battle. He was aware though that he had not slept at all either, and probably looked it.

“And where did you hear that?” asked Hubert as he braced himself for bad news.

“We captured your grandmother last night,” said Rodrigue.

That was an unexpected gut punch. Hubert kept his face static. “I cannot imagine she told you much of use.” He had to hope that the Fraldarius’ reputation for chivalry extended to Agatha and that Rodrigue was not in the habit of torturing old women.

“She told us you captured Ingrid Galatea,” said another man, wearing a big emblem of the crest of Daphnel. “We would like to make a trade, your grandmother for my daughter.”

Hubert’s throat got very uncomfortable as he focused on keeping any emotion from crossing his face. Ferdinand jumped in to take over talking, “Ingrid Galatea is not a prisoner here.”

“That’s not what we were told,” warned Rodrigue. He was speaking to Ferdinand but his eyes would not leave Hubert. “Ingrid is the only reason we are doing this parley. Turn her over now, or we will not guarantee Lady von Vestra’s safety during the battle.”

“We do not have Ingrid Galatea,” reiterated Ferdinand. “We did, but we sent her back to Fhirdiad in secret. Agatha von Vestra would not have known that before she left.”

Some looks were exchanged between the Faerghean officers. Ingrid’s father looked far from convinced, “The Empire is not in the habit of showing mercy.”

“The only prisoner we have from the Kingdom is Dedue Molinaro,” said Hubert as a little desperation began to claw at him. This was what he got for sparing people and now he was playing his only card. Dedue had however seen Hubert saving Mercedes last night, and perhaps he’d vouch for Ferdinand and Hubert’s honesty on this matter. “We can trade you him, and he’ll corroborate that we do not have Ingrid.”

“We are not interested in trading for the Duscarian,” said Rodrigue. He drew in a deep breath. “We will liberate him when we take this place. I’ll give you an hour to come up with Ingrid or a better story for where she is. Then we attack.”

Hubert felt absolutely powerless as he watched them turning their horses to ride away. Annette lingered for a few moments to give him an awful stare before going on her way. He got the impression she wanted to personally kill him when the siege began. She was welcome to try.

“So much for trying to barter with Dedue,” said Ferdinand as he watched them go. “You would think they might want the prince’s closest friend.”

“He’s from Duscar, what do you expect?” hissed Hubert. It was the least surprising turn of the day so far and yet the foolish hope they’d take the trade stung at his resolve.

“What are you suddenly their champion?’ scoffed Yuri.

“Maybe I should be,” said Hubert under his breath. Hubert was made of spite and already he was imagining storming the Kingdom and redistributing the Fraldarius lands to the people of Duscar. It wasn’t a half bad idea; he could offer them their land in exchange for supporting the Empire. It was not as if the Kingdom had ever done right by them. Mostly though he was worried over what was going to happen to Agatha now. He sent her away so she couldn’t be used as a political prisoner, but had sent her right into a different enemy’s hands. She was an old woman and she did not belong anywhere near a battle.

At least the interaction had left him with one spark of an idea up his sleeve. “Ferdinand, do you think those in the Infirmary can be moved?”

Ferdinand’s eyes looked in the direction of the healing ward as he pursed his lips, “I will be surprised if Jeritza is much longer with the living, but Dedue might fare better in the Abyss if that’s what you are thinking.”

 _Perfect_. “Good, please escort him down there and make sure he finds a comfortable place to rest.” Hubert had no intentions of keeping Dedue as a prisoner any longer than he had to. Once healed, Dedue would be a nightmare to keep captive and Hubert was not fond of leaving people to rot in cells when they could be used for something better. He would gladly use Dedue as a bartering chip with Dimitri the moment such an opportunity arose. Until then Hubert was going to do all he could to try to appeal to Dedue’s better nature. “And Ferdinand, take him through the Cathedral to get to the Abyss, make sure he sees the shrines.”

Ferdinand paused and then nodded in understanding. “And if he asks to pray?”

“Then you must indulge him,” said Hubert with a strong look. Hubert was under no delusions that he could sway the retainer’s staunch loyalty to the prince, but perhaps he could appeal to Dedue’s memories of a time before the Tragedy. “You might also wish to mention that we tried to trade him back, and that the Kingdom refused.”

Ferdinand winced and nodded, “I will find a delicate way to deliver that news.”

As they returned to the safety of Garreg Mach, Hubert looked Yuri over. Yuri was hard to read, even for someone trained at watching people, and Hubert had no choice but to ask, “So now that you’ve heard what the Kingdom has to say, have you made a decision on who to support?”

Yuri shrugged and stretched. “I have to go talk to my people and find out what they want to do.”

His lack of decisiveness was like a nail driven into a coffin. Hubert resisted the urge to snark back that he thought Yuri was a leader; alienating the lord Abyss could end up worse than just surrendering now.

***

No Ingrid, no deal. Annette was out of tears to shed and had to hope Ferdinand wasn’t full of shit when he suggested they let Ingrid go, as absolutely unbelievable as that was. Bitterly and selfishly, Annette wished that it was Mercedes who had been let go instead. That was a terrible, awful desire but it was honest. She did not share such thoughts with Sylvain.

Annette wrapped Dedue’s sister’s scarf around her neck for good luck and suited up in the smallest suit of armor that had been available at the Daphnel estate. She did not want to think about Mercedes or the possibility they might lose today. She practiced swinging Crusher instead. Each blow backed with magic was going to break bones and shatter skulls. Annette would never say she was ever ready for battle, but she was as close as she’d ever be. In the distance, Annette could hear a small and growing commotion beginning near the center of the war camp. Annette closed her eyes and prayed it was Judith coming back with a change of heart.

Her boots each felt full of lead as she walked toward the excitement to investigate. She kept her eyes on the snow and tried not to let her mind wander. When it did that it tended to fall into dark holes filled with visions of battle or imaginings of Mercedes’ body. Annette feared she might drop down a line of thought and never come back up.

“Annie,” said a familiar voice. Annette looked up in shock as Felix approached her. He stopped walking as soon as she spotted him. Felix looked liked he’d been through a lot in the last few days.

“You, you’re back,” said Annette in disbelief. She had expected to feel more joy at their reunion but mostly Annette felt hollowed out. “Mercedes is dead.” The words fell out of her before she even realized she was saying them.

“Sylvain told me,” said Felix softly. His eyes shut as if too heavy with guilt, “She helped us, that’s why this happened.”

Annette was once more on the brink of tears, but at least this time she wasn’t alone in that. Annette didn’t ask for permission before hugging Felix. She felt his arms stiffen up in her embrace. Her nose filled with a mix of sweat and dirt that clung to him like a second skin. Felix’s voice was barely a whisper, “It’s my fault, I got her involved in my escape. I never thought they’d kill her for helping.”

Somehow having him confirm it made everything feel worse. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Felix gently got himself out of the hug and rubbed his face, “The Emperor ordered the Death Knight to hunt Dimitri.” He looked like he might vomit. “They want his blood, they’re after people with crests.” Felix put a hand on Annette’s shoulder and met her stare, “No matter what, don’t get captured today.”

Annette nodded in shock. “And Mercedes? Why did she have to,” Annette found herself unable to complete her sentence.

“Mercedes started going out on patrol with her brother to try to stop him from killing Dimitri. Eventually though he found us, on the day I was trying to leave. He injured Dedue and Ingrid pretty badly, then Mercedes showed up with Hubert.”

Annette’s frown deepened as she listened. Felix shut his eyes, “I’m pretty sure Dimitri and I killed Jeritza.” He paused and took a deep breath, “Dimitri was going to kill Hubert, but Mercedes knocked him out and told us to get out of there.”

“Why would she help _him_?” asked Annette. If Mercedes could have chosen one person to not be nice to for once in her life, it should have been Hubert. Then maybe she’d be here now.

“I don’t know, why does Mercedes do anything? She just does what she thinks is right,” said Felix with half a laugh to hide his pain. Felix put his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword. “We should have never left her behind.” He was speaking as if Mercedes was alive, as if they were all still adjusting to this horrible new reality.

“You’re not the one who’s to blame,” said Annette as she processed his story. Her anger fully rest with the monsters presently within Garreg Mach. Annette took a deep breath and tried to focus on what was ahead of them rather than the things she could not change. “So why are you back now? Shouldn’t you be half way to Fhirdiad?”

“I can’t get Dimitri to do anything. He saw your camp from the mountains and came to investigate. I just followed from a distance.” An alarming apathy bled into his voice.

“Dimitri is here?” Annette now understood the commotion. Her reunion was going to have to wait. Annie grabbed Felix’s hand and tugged him along to where the planning was happening.

Dimitri looked much worse than when Annette had last seen him months ago. He had a roughly constructed eye patch and someone had found him a cloak to put over his threadbare school uniform. He looked more beggar than prince.

“We should retreat,” said Gwendal in a begrudging voice, looking at Rodrigue. “We have your son, we have the prince, and they don’t have the girl.” His focus shifted towards Dimitri, “Let us return to Fhirdiad and give his highness time to recover. There we’ll raise a proper force.” There were some murmurs of agreement echoing the crowd. Annette didn’t know what to do; for as much as she wanted revenge, in her heart she knew that was absolutely not what Mercedes would want for her. Yet as Annette searched herself for forgiveness, she came up with nothing.

“This is not a matter of just our lives, this is the future of our home at stake,” said Rodrigue, which helped to bring Annette’s focus away from Mercedes and back to the battle. If she did not fight today, it might just mean the war would find her in the Dominic lands. It would be better to end it now and far from her family. Rodrigue looked at Dimitri, “Your majesty, I defer to your judgment as to whether we retreat now or try to take back the seat of the Church today.”

Silence fell over the camp as everyone looked towards their crown prince. Annette found her heart was pounding as she waited for him to make a decision.

“We are here now, they are weak, we should strike,” said Dimitri as he stared in the direction of Garreg Mach. His voice had no waver, only resolve.

“Then we will fight,” announced Rodrigue to loud cries of support. However Annette did not miss how some of the force did not look as enthused. She was sure even last night they had more troops than seemed present now. This fight was going to be close, and everyone could feel it.

Beside her, Annette sensed Felix’s posture growing rigid. She grabbed his hand and squeezed, and was relieved to feel him squeeze back. She caught Sylvain’s eyes and felt the dreadful weight of the coming battle settling upon her. Sylvain tried to give her a reassuring grin, but they’d spent enough months together for her to know when he was hiding his fear. Still, it made her feel a small bit better about what they were about to do.

***

“Our hour is up,” said Hubert as he watched the kingdom forces forming neat lines in front of Garreg Mach. Glowing relics dotted the tree lines — the Aegis shield, the Lance of Ruin, Crusher — and there were simply more bodies on their side than within the monastery. Further, there was an unpleasantly familiar face in the center of the enemies line. “It appears Prince Dimitri has found his ready army.” The attack with the golems had been but a taste, this would be the real serving of vengeance.

Ferdinand stared and squinted. “He does not look like he is fit to fight.”

“You don’t have to be so polite, he cannot hear you,” said Hubert. From here Dimitri, despite appearing small, still managed to be enormously threatening.

“Yes but I can hear me, and I prefer to be polite,” said Ferdinand under his breath. He straightened up, “Do not fear, we have been training for this!” He clapped Hubert on the back with far too much force.

Hubert did not share Ferdinand’s enthusiasm. “How did things go with Dedue?”

“Oh, well he is a man of precious few words,” said Ferdinand. “Although I believe he looked moved.”

“Good,” murmured Hubert as he wondered if Dedue would be liberated by the Kingdom today, or left behind. If it was the latter, then perhaps Dedue would prove a more cooperative hostage if he felt he had a place to belong. On the other hand if the Kingdom did take back Garreg Mach maybe Dedue would convince Dimitri to show mercy although Hubert would not hold his breath for that.

Randolph interrupted Hubert’s train of thought to deliver a report. “Caspar will have reached Fort Merceus by now,” said Randolph knowingly. “My step brother will not delay in sending help.” He forced a cheerful demeanor, “And until he arrives, I will hold the line.”

They needed to keep the Kingdom’s armies distracted and away from the under guarded walls of the monastery. The objective was to keep them concentrated on a stretch of wall that could be defended. Randolph was eager to prove himself worthy of his last name and he would be leading the best of their soldiers out into the open to do so. Hubert could not ignore the itching dread that they were too horribly outnumbered to stand a chance. Randolph looked perfectly brave despite the odds before them, “It will be fine.” He gave Ferdinand and Hubert a nod, “Please watch after my sister.”

“Of course,” said Ferdinand. Randolph seemed put at ease by that as he readied himself to meet the Kingdom’s forces. “It’s three hours,” whispered Ferdinand as he and Hubert watched the Empire’s paltry forces lining up. “Three hours by wyvern is all we need.”

“Unless they have two hundred wyverns, it will not be enough,” said Hubert as his mind raced with potential outcomes. He knew for a fact they did not have such numbers. Hubert looked beyond the armies to where their white tents could just be made out in the distance. Surely his grandmother was being held prisoner in their camp. As far as priority for political prisoners went, Agatha was low. She was important only to him, and he did not see the Empire producing any worthwhile trades if he was not alive to push for it.

Considering it was overwhelming. “Excuse me,” whispered Hubert as he made to leave. Yuri’s time was up and Hubert needed to know if he had the Abyss’ support or not.

“Wait, where are you going?” asked Ferdinand.

“To pray, keep charge,” said Hubert, without a shred of sarcasm. He skirted his way around Ferdinand before von Aegir could demand an explanation.

Hubert slipped down into the Abyss, where all the weakest souls were gathered. He kept his head down as he avoided the crowds and made his way to the underground alter. It was thankfully empty as Hubert approached the statue of the veiled goddess. Mercedes had said the statue had a strange pull, but Hubert found that such feelings did not come naturally to him. He felt absolutely nothing as he knelt at the ancient alter.

He folded his hands and found it did not help. “Look, I don’t know what I’m doing,” whispered Hubert as quietly as he could. He felt completely ridiculous but he was out of rational options. “I did what you asked of me. I could use help, or a sign, anything.”

He was met with total silence. There was no flash of magic from Sothis, or Kauket, or whatever she was, answering his half assed prayer. Instead there was a chuckle behind him. Yuri leaned against the entryway, “What are you having some sort of religious awakening?”

Hubert stood. There was no point in lying, “I figured it could not make things worse.”

Yuri’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “Well you won’t get anything back from that one. Maybe the one upstairs, but this one’s silent as death.” He paused and looked around before gingerly entering the alter. “Why’d you let those two go last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” said Hubert as his mind flooded with the sight of Ingrid spiriting Mercedes away to safety. As far as Hubert was concerned, Yuri had only heard that Ingrid was let free and there was no need to expose what had happened to Mercedes.

Yuri smirked, “You sent Caspar to fetch a pegasus, you think he was quiet about it? There’s little that goes on here that I don’t see or hear. But what I haven’t heard yet is why.” He folded his arms and stared waiting on an answer.

The truth of it was too hard to breathe life into and so Hubert settle on sharing the objective facts. “Mercedes von Martritz’s blood was being used for crest stones, not to save her brother, and the process was killing her,” whispered Hubert. Yuri’s gaze remained calculating and cool as if there was a bigger game being played. Yet Hubert was tired from lack of sleep and what he feared was a broken heart he had to learn to ignore, “And I did not wish for that to happen. If that satisfies your inquiry, I do have a battle to go fight.” He made to pass Yuri and get up to the surface once more.

Yuri’s hand stopped on Hubert’s chest, “The two of you pushed for my people to have a better place here, but I got the sense she was the heart and you were more the head of your little partnership. What happens to the Abyss now that she’s gone?”

Hubert stared down at the Abyss’ self appointed guardian. “You were given a place by the Emperor herself, she will not go back on that just because one person is gone.” Hubert felt a burning in his chest as he thought about what would happen if he lost Garreg Mach and Edelgard warped right back into a hostile occupied base. “However if we lose here today, Rhea will come back. I imagine she’ll simply sweep you all back under the rug. That is if she does not dispose of you for want of a fresh start.”

“If I help you, I want a place at your strategy table,” said Yuri as his eyes bore into Hubert. “And I mean the real one where you and Edie plot to let prisoners go, not the one where you pretend to follow Lord Arundel’s orders.”

Had it been a normal day, Yuri’s flippant use of _Edie_ might have gotten a swift reprimand out of Hubert, but today he was at the mercy of other’s help. Besides if it was that apparent that Hubert and Edelgard were conspiring against Arundel, there was little choice but to cooperate to avoid potential blackmail. “Done.”

“Alright then, you have my backing today,” said Yuri as he extended his hand.

Hubert shook it, hoping they were not about to get buried together in a mass grave. “Gather up everyone who can fight, and meet me on the parapets.” Hubert gave a last scornful look at the veiled goddess statue, wondering what, if any, good she had done. Yuri’s help could be viewed as a small miracle, but Hubert wasn’t ready to chalk up to the divine what was more likely a self-serving decision.

The noise of clashing steel grew louder as Hubert returned to Ferdinand’s side. He looked out at where already there were dead Adrestians littering the ground. “How are we doing?”

“It could always be better,” said Ferdinand as he focused on Randolph’s crimson armor in the distance. “The Kingdom is attacking in a straight line right now.” He pointed to rigid lines of soldiers approaching in neat fashion. “We could conceivably send a force out to get behind them and drive them against the walls. Then the archers just need to rain down a volley.”

It was brutal and effective sounding strategy, like squashing a bug. Hubert nodded, “Keep their attention then. I will head out with Yuri and his forces.”

“It is my plan, therefore I think I should lead our forces,” said Ferdinand as he geared up for an argument.

Hubert set a hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder. “No. I need you to be here and in charge. I assure you no one has read more battle strategies, this is where you belong.” He paused and leaned in, “And if it looks like we are lost, I will need you to retreat.”

Ferdinand looked aghast at the suggestion, “Absolutely not—”

“Ferdinand, if something happens to me, Edelgard will need you more than ever,” said Hubert. It was not a possibility he wanted to entertain but it was a potential outcome. He straightened up and released Ferdinand. “There is no one I would rather have at her side, do you understand me?”

Ferdinand nodded in terse silence. He clearly did not like it, but he kept his disagreements to himself. Satisfied, Hubert went to suit up in his armor and prepared to meet their enemy on the ground.

***

It was said a relic could change the course of an entire battle. Annette remembered this was why Byleth, with his freshly found Sword of the Creator, had been sent to deal with Miklan when the Lance of Ruin was stolen. At the time it had seemed excessive, but now here with Crusher in her hands she felt like the legends were true.

Crusher felt alive, far more than when she had been practicing leading up the battle. The difference was that instead of straw dummies or far off targets, today Annette was hitting people. The weapon was _excited_. Where Annie ended and Crusher began was becoming blurred as she moved and swung. With each kill Crusher seemed to hit harder and Annie swore the weapon was absorbing the blood left upon it just to glow even brighter in her hands. It was intoxicating.

“Incoming,” yelled Felix as those around her scattered. Annette watched the black magic ballista firing off a massive incoming spell in their direction. She might have run away once, but with Crusher she found herself dismounting and sprinting towards where the spell was going to land.

“Annie, what are you doing?” Sylvain’s shout was lost in the chaos as Annette found a spot to plant her feet. She arced her relic backward and then swung with all her might. As the spell made contact with Crusher’s blunted face Annette felt her arms shaking with the recoil. Yet she was stronger then the spell, and pushed on through the swing. The volatile projection changed course and flew back at where it was cast, taking out the ballista and a big chunk of wall. Annette stared at the destruction as the manic energy of battle pumped through her.

She could barely believe they were about to overrun the Empire’s forces. The enemy leader, the red armored fool who thought he could take them, was barely holding his own against Dimitri. The prince, for looking haggard, moved with an unforgiving violence. It was not a very long engagement before Annette saw the Adrestian commander sliding from Dimitri’s lance.

With that, the Empire’s forces broke. It was pathetic watching them racing back towards the great entrance of Garreg Mach. When the doors shut, they shut for good even with some of the Adrestians still on the outside. It was like watching rats attempting to escape a trap as the Empire soldiers threw themselves ineffectively against the walls. Some even tried to fight their way through the field full of the Kingdom’s soldiers as if they had any chance escaping into the woods.

With the enemy soldiers scattered it was time to mount an attack on the front gate. Arrows rained down from the top of the wall as the Kingdom forces got into position with their shields. “Dominic, with me,” ordered Rodrigue. Annette found herself accepting his hand to get up on his horse. The were riding towards the great big door that stood between them and capturing the monastery. “We will use Crusher the Aegis shield to bring down this door.”

Inside the shielded tunnel of bodies it was dark and cramped. Arrows deflected off the metal with a constant barrage of _thunks_. Now and then one would break through and strike a neck. The body would drop and the next soldier would rise take their place. It was humid and rank with body odor as Annette got to the front. She was given wide breadth to swing.

Crusher hit the door with an ominous thud. The barrier stood strong as Annette was pelted with centuries of dirt finally shaken free. Rodrigue slammed his shield into the door as she got ready to hit it again. After a few rounds of this Annette noticed a small crack forming. Rodrigue nodded with enthusiasm, “Good, if we keep going, we can break through.”

Despite his confidence, Crusher seemed heavier somehow in her hands and its glow did not seem as bright. The coursing energy she’d felt while holding it on the battlefield was fading. She wondered if she was tired or if her relic itself was getting lethargic. The soldier next to her let out a gurgle as an arrow emerged through his neck. The blood splashed upon the relic and Annette’s hands grew hot as Crusher burned a little brighter. At least the deaths of those surrounding her would not be in vain. Annette tried not to think too hard as she took another swing. She was about take another as Rodrigue pulled her back, “They’re going to drop oil!”

Annette was not in control of her movements as she found herself being pushed back along the line. The soldiers nearest the wall screamed out as the boiling oil burned them alive. The heat scorched her skin as she was pulled behind a line of shields as another valley of arrows hit the ground. Those who had not had the mercy of dying right away from the oil stopped moving as their bodies filled with fletchings. A fire now burned between the soldiers and the door; she would not be getting close again until that was put out.

The trumpeting of a horn blared across the battlefield. That was Ingrid’s father alerting them to something terrible. Annette could only see other bodies, but she could hear the murmurings from those with a view. The door was going to have to wait, a whole host was at their back.

Annette surrendered to being pushed through the Kingdom’s forces towards the glow of the Lance of Ruin. Sylvain helped her find a clear spot and Annie relished in the fresh air as she dared to look at the oncoming force. There were some soldiers in Imperial black, but most of these people looked like mercenaries. Their armor did not match and they had no banners flying.

“Who are these people?” asked Sylvain as he watched the new force coming closer.

“Who cares?” asked Annette as Crusher trembled in her hands. It crooned and creaked as it twitched. Crusher did not need words, for Annette could feel its craving for blood inside herself. She wondered if the Lance of Ruin was filling Sylvain with the same sort of compulsion.

Annette searched their line for a commander and saw Hubert. He was holding a weapon like none she had ever seen. It almost looked like a relic, but wrong, and she didn’t need to get close to know it was dangerous. She nudged Sylvain, “That’s who we need to take out.”

The incoming force was disorganized in its assault and it took Annette a fraction of a second too long to realize that was on purpose. They were stowing chaos and capitalizing on the confusion as the Kingdom’s forces were driven backwards towards the wall. The scent of the burning oil was thick in the air as the fires spread. Sylvain was just a step ahead of Annette’s thoughts as he shouted, “Don’t get trapped against the walls!”

Sylvain pulled her along as they tried to break through towards the woods. From the corner of her eyes Annette could see the Aegis shield’s glow going down. Rodrigue was no longer on horseback, he was at the mercy of a mob as Felix and Dimitri tried to clear a path towards him. With Duke Fraldarius down, Gwendal took charge and yelled for retreat. The spineless coward began to ride north as what remained of the Rowe forces followed.

Annette was still looking for Hubert. She expected him to be leading the charge but he was heading towards the woods. Annette began to chase after him with Sylvain just behind her.

Annette launched off cutting gale backed with Crusher’s force. As a tree she hit came down in front of Hubert, the mage spun and realized he was being followed. “You should retreat,” said Hubert as his own weapon directed a magical beam at her.

“You should die,” suggested Annette as she hit the beam with Crusher. That was a mistake. Her relic bucked and flew from her hands in response to the force. Hubert began to warm up another beam of magic as Sylvain pushed Annette aside and cast a counter attack.

Sylvain had practiced Ragnorak often but he hadn’t gotten to the point where it was battle ready. Annette’s eyes widened as she realized he still wasn’t fully ready to use it now. The spell had poor control — he’d put in too much energy and let it free with too little direction — and it was going to backfire. Annette quickly pivoted from charging after Crusher and tackled Sylvain to the ground before his own spell could take him out. Both lions crashed into the snow as the world went red and hot overhead.

Annette’s ears were ringing as she staggered to her feet. Sylvain looked like he’d been hit hard in the head by the force of his fall and wasn’t getting up fast enough for her comfort. Annette struggled to take a deep breath as she surveyed the damage. The trees immediately surrounding them were twisted and charred. Tents were on fire and it seemed to be spreading.

Hubert was on the ground, thrown off his feet by the blast. His weapon was far out of reach. Annette had hoped to take him down herself, but she would settle for this. With Crusher back in hand, Annette walked towards the fallen Adrestian.

He was alive, for now. She expected if he could get up he would. “That’s a lot of blood,” whispered Annette as she delicately rested Crusher’s weight upon Hubert’s chest plate.

Hubert’s eyes seemed focused completely on the relic and its glow. Annette let the mallet’s weight fully compress him down into the muddy snow, “Did she die fast or did you draw things out?”

“What?” Hubert finally looked at her instead of her weapon. His voice was raspy like he could barely breathe. “Who?”

“Mercedes. She’s dead because of you. Did you kill her in the woods when she let Felix run?” Annette’s eyes stung with tears as she stared down at him with a hatred she did not know herself capable of. “Or did you torture her to death after?”

“She’s not,” whispered Hubert in a broken sentence that trailed off. It sounded like he was having trouble getting enough air as he clawed ineffectively at Crusher. His eyes did not look right and Annette didn’t want him to pass out before she found out what had happened. He said something in a low voice that Annette couldn’t hear. With frustration she took Crusher off of him so he could breathe and leaned in close. Her ears were practically at his lips when he finally spoke, “You shouldn’t have let your guard down.”

Annette reacted too slow as he shot upright and flipped her over. He was bleeding a lot, but clearly not as much as she thought. Crusher was now out of her reach and Hubert’s hands pinned Annette’s wrists to the ground preventing her from casting. “I didn’t kill her, I tried to save her,” hissed Hubert. There was pain there in his expression as Annette struggled to get free.

The smoke from the burning tents was getting thicker. Hubert’s head was wildly moving around looking for something until his eyes, bloodshot and green, turned to Annette, “Where is my grandmother?”

Annette did her best to spit in his face. From the corner of her eye she could see Sylvain finally staggering to his feet and coming to her aid. Hubert grunted out a curse and let Annette go as he limped towards the burning encampment. Annette popped up and immediately made to cast at him.

Sylvain grabbed her hand, “Annette stop, we have to retreat.” There was real fear in his voice, unlike she’d heard before.

“I’m sick of running,” said Annette as she wrenched her wrist free of his grip. They had run from Garreg Mach and from Dimitri. Running had killed Mercedes. Annette sent Cutting Gale ripping free from her fingers and hit Hubert in the back, sending him face down to the ground. This time she was not going to underestimate him, she was going to finish the job.

Sylvain grabbed her by the shoulders and twisted her view towards Garreg Mach where sudden many familiar faces were streaming from the gates. A shining gold horned crown glinted in the sun as Edelgard led the charge. “They’re back, we need to go,” said Sylvain. The Rowe fighters were gone, and now Charon and Galatea were following. The day was lost.

***

It was not snow that was falling, but a fine powdery ash as the woods surrounding Garreg Mach burned. Small hands were at his throat, and Hubert’s eyes shot open to see Edelgard’s face hovering over him full of worry. She looked horrible and was covered in soot and sweat. Enbarr had clearly been burning. She was checking his pulse and as he came to his senses his chest flooded with pain.

“Hold still, don’t move,” ordered Edelgard. “Linhardt! Manuela, I need one of you now.”

Hubert shook at his feet to make sure they still moved. He could still walk, and he needed to find Agatha. “Let me up,” said Hubert, even as speaking filled him with pain.

Edelgard’s grip was unwavering, “Linhardt! Hurry!” He felt her hands going down to the gap between his back and chest plate, “Hubert you need to stay still.” Hubert’s eyes traced down to where the pain was searing. The snow was soaked with his blood. Edelgard squeezed one of his hands, “You’re going to be fine, it’s a only small hole—”

Linhardt made a sound of pure disgust as he came to Hubert’s side. “ _Egh_ , so much blood,” said the healer as Edelgard helped to undo the straps of Hubert’s armor.

“If your comments are not helpful, keep them to yourself,” said Edelgard with annoyance as Hubert found himself being manipulated and moved.

This wound hurt far worse than when he’d been stabbed in the gut even though everyone was treating it as not a bad hit. “Agatha is being held prisoner,” said Hubert in wheezes.

“We’ll find her, I promise, but stop speaking,” ordered Edelgard. Deep lines were beneath her eyes, and Hubert felt a pang of guilt knowing she’d gone straight from one fight to another with no reprieve.

“Your lung is collapsed, that’s all,” said Linhardt as if that were as minor as a stubbed toe. He looked at Edelgard, “Is that helpful enough for you?”

Edelgard ignored Linhardt and focused on Hubert, “You did it, you held Garreg Mach. They’re retreating now.”

The air was thick with smoke and heat. Hubert’s side burned with Linhardt’s faith magic as Edelgard looked relieved by whatever progress was being made. When the healing was complete, Hubert leaned against Edelgard for support.

“Is Enbarr secure?” he asked as they walked through the trampled war camp. He coughed as the smoke filled his injured lungs.

“Yes but the Almyrans appear to be sailing North,” said Edelgard as she helped him checking empty tents for Agatha. “We are mobilizing troops to head towards Hevring and Brigid now.”

“Are you alright?” asked Hubert finally, realizing he ought to have asked her that right away.

Edelgard was quiet for a while before clearing her throat, “There is much to talk about, but later.”

“Now is fine,” insisted Hubert as he checked yet another empty tent. Perhaps Agatha was not here after all.

“My father is dead,” whispered Edelgard. “I think the shock of the attack was too much for him. I am told he passed quickly at least.”

Hubert stared in stunned silence at the news. “Your majesty, I, I am so sorry for your loss—”

Edelgard held up her hand to stop him. Her lip quivered ever so slightly betraying her deeply buried feelings, “Like I said, there is much to discuss, but it can wait.” She paused and looked around to ensure no one was too close to them. “Did you manage to take care of things here?”

“Yes, but that is why Agatha is a prisoner, I foolishly thought I was protecting her by sending her away,” said Hubert as they neared what appeared to be the center of the Kingdom’s abandoned camp. Adrestian soldiers were picking through the place looking for survivors and anything of value.

The smoke was exceptionally thick here and Hubert’s heart raced with worry. He stomped out a spreading fire as he continued trying to locate his grandmother. The tents were going up in flames and he feared what would happen if they didn’t find the prisoners quickly. It was not an outcome his heart could entertain.

“I think I found them,” said Edelgard, sounding optimistic. She stopped in her tracks and turned as Hubert attempted to get past her, “Hubert wait—” her voice was now filled with panic. Hubert pushed into the smoky, darkened tent to see for himself.

The soldiers he’d sent to escort his grandmother home were tied up together, gagged and blindfolded. Their heads slumped towards their chests and their legs were sprawled out and unmoving. In the middle of the smoke filled tent his grandmother was tied tight to a chair, also gagged and blindfolded. Her neck was arched back in a way that he did not have to check her pulse to know that it was absent.

Hubert backed up in a daze back into the open where he could breathe as his ears began to ring. He stumbled and nearly fell as Edelgard worked to steady him. She was trying to communicate something to him, but for Hubert the world had suddenly flipped itself inside out.


	40. To become a monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for: body horror, talk of menstruation (these are two unrelated warnings)

Hubert found himself at the end of the Wilted Rose’s bar with a personal bottle of whiskey and a glass. The whole place was celebrating being alive on Hubert’s disastrous offer of an open tab and yet somehow in a room packed with people Hubert found himself completely alone.

Agatha’s body had been moved by others to the catacombs near the graveyard for preparation. Smoke inhalation had been an ironic way for her to go. His only small reprieve was hoping it had been quick. He’d seen bodies burned to death, trampled by horses, smashed beyond recognition with relics, and in comparison suffocation almost looked pleasant. There were quite a few bodies — from the Kingdom, Empire, and Abyss — to sort through and tally. He had no idea who was overseeing the cleanup but for once in his life, Hubert was glad to melt back into the shadows and let someone else deal with the mess. Hubert was not entirely sure how he’d arrived at the Wilted Rose, but the whiskey bottle stared back at him as if to tease that this was where he was always going to end up.

His fingers moved with precision as he removed the cork and sniffed the bottle. It smelled like his father, and there was a strange comfort in that familiar yet hated scent. Hubert stared at his squat cylindrical glass and set to pouring. He passed by a taste, into a sip, then an over-indulgence, and straight towards a bad night. The amber liquid crested over the lip of the glass before Hubert could stop it.

He stared at the far too full glass as he placed the stopper back. He told people he did not like drinking because of the taste. The bitter truth was that he actually liked it so much it scared him. Hubert had come to the unpleasant realization he wasn’t above his family’s preferred vice on that night of his birthday before coming to school. After their return form the brothel, his father had forced him to join him in the parlor for cigars and whiskey for finally _becoming a man_. Hubert had drank himself sick for want of escape, and when he woke up the next morning he’d declared to himself never again.

Never again until now. Hubert lifted the glass and drank. He did not wish to taste or savor it; he just needed to be drunk and fast. He continued to consume and dared not stop until it was all gone. Objectively his chest was burning and his mouth stung, but subjectively, Hubert felt nothing at all.

“I thought you did not drink,” said Ferdinand quietly as he slid into the next seat over.

“I lied,” whispered Hubert into his glass. Part of him wanted to snarl at Ferdinand to leave him, another wished desperately for him to stay.

“Well I wish you had not started quite yet. We’ve been summoned,” said Ferdinand. His voice sounded like he was reading off an execution order.

“By whom?” asked Hubert as he played with the whiskey bottle and debated how obliterated he wished to get.

“Arundel,” said Ferdinand.

That fact only made Hubert want to drink more. Yet he didn’t wish to die drunk, and so he simply carried the bottle with him as he followed Ferdinand out of the Abyss and towards the war council room.

The drunkenness began to ebb into Hubert’s senses as he and Ferdinand slipped into the council room. Arundel was staring at him from his spot beside the Emperor with the sort of gaze that said plainly, _I know what you did_. Hubert quietly uncorked and re-corked his liquor bottle beneath the table to occupy his hands. He was still cognizant enough to keep his mouth shut.

Beside him, Dorothea’s chest was heaving in a silent effort to contain her tears. Petra appeared stoic in her anger in the next chair down. Hanneman looked like he had not slept in a hundred years as he sagged in his chair and stared at the table in silence. Caspar had at last returned with his father and brother. The reinforcements arrived by wyvern and were patrolling the woods now looking for any remaining Kingdom stragglers.

Friendly, boisterous Caspar von Bergliez was a bit of an anomaly among his family. His father, Jasper, and his older brother, Henrick, were both stout men with perhaps one joke known between them. They had mean frowns but were honorable and Hubert was grateful to have them here as Jasper began arranging the present state of their army upon a map.

“The Almyrans are heading to Brigid, they’ll be there by boat within a week, maybe more if the wind is unfavorable,” said Jasper, speaking in a series of short grunts. “They may take longer if they continue to raze the coastline.”

Edelgard nodded and stared at the little Enbarr marker. “They did a number on our navy stationed in the capital, how can we get an appropriate force there as quickly as possible?”

“Pegasus corps,” said Jasper as he moved a series of white horses west along the map.

“Good, I will send Ladislava to oversee the mission,” said Edelgard. She seemed ready to move onto the next order of business.

Petra made a small noise that was promptly ignored. A scowl clouded her face as her little throat clearing bled into an interruption. “Your majesty, I would like to be going on this mission.”

“No, I need you here,” said Edelgard without hesitation.

“But Brigid is my home,” said Petra as she stared at the Emperor, not as her commander but as her friend.

“The answer is no Petra, you are dismissed. Take Dorothea with you,” said Edelgard.

Petra looked as if she’d been slapped as she stood and pulled Dorothea from her seat. The singer moved as if dazed and Hubert quietly slid his liquor bottle into her hands. Her big green eyes locked with his in understanding as she pulled the blasted bottle away from him. He had a feeling she needed it just as bad and he could not risk himself drinking any more.

Edelgard focused on the map and did not look at the two women as they left. Once the door was shut again, her violet eyes settled on Ferdinand. “During the attack, Ludwig von Aegir escaped.”

Ferdinand straightened up his posture, “I see.”

“We expect he will try to get to the Alliance and seek amnesty, and so you will need to go find him and bring him back before he gets there,” said Edelgard. “The last thing we need is him leaking state secrets observed in his tenure as Prime Minster.” Yes, goddess forbid anyone learn what had truly happened to the Hresvelg children, thought Hubert bitterly.

“You wish for me to recapture my own father?” asked Ferdinand. He sounded like he was desperately attempting to bury his shock and appear polite.

“I trust you to do this, which is why I am appointing you to this task instead of someone else. I will send Lysithea von Ordelia to help you, she is familiar with the Leicester-Adrestia border,” continued Edelgard. “Do you have any questions?”

Ferdinand swallowed and shook his head and then paused, “What will become of him when I capture him?”

“He will return to Enbarr to await his trial,” said Edelgard.

“I have your word on this?” asked Ferdinand. This would be a true test of his loyalty and Hubert hoped Edelgard knew what she was doing.

“Indeed,” said Edelgard, her voice growing sharp and short. “Go, you will depart for Fort Merceus immediately to convene a plan with Lysithea.”

Ferdinand stood and bowed and went on his way. Edelgard looked then to Hubert. “The attack on Enbarr was extremely personal.” Edelgard took a deep breath and rubbed at her face. She had yet to get cleaned up from either battle. “The Imperial Palace is extensively damaged. My father, though he escaped, passed in the uproar. The Almyrans seemed to have a very specific list of targets to hit after the palace was vandalized.” Edelgard stood and began to pace, “They destroyed the opera house. They burned our university and libraries to the ground. They set von Aegir free.”

Hubert sensed it was his time to finally speak as he leaned forward and rested his elbows upon the table. He was finally feeling truly drunk at the worst possible time and every fiber of his being dedicated itself to keeping him from unraveling. “Am I to infer they were sending a message to members of the Strike Force? How would they even know anything about us?”

Edelgard pulled a very fine looking scroll from the voluminous pockets of her skirt and deposited it in front of Hubert. He was having trouble focusing on the letters but he could see the large crest of Riegan at the bottom. Claude was in charge of this attack. Hubert dropped the declaration on the table and looked at Edelgard, “And what was their personal message to me? Did they burn my house down too?”

“No, your home and family were untouched,” said Edelgard. She was frowning at him, and Hubert wondered if she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “They destroyed your family tomb.”

Hubert’s head lulled off to one side in confusion. “What?”

“They ransacked it, that was the only one in the graveyard they touched,” said Edelgard as she returned to her seat.

Hubert thought of all the dead, disturbed Vestras and then recalled what else was in that crypt. It was where the first Vestra’s things had been stored, including the original copy of his treason filled memoir. Hubert felt a little ill though it was hard to separate what was the alcohol and what was the worry over what the Almyrans had been hoping to find. Someone clearly knew what was in there, or else they would not have gone after it.

It also meant there was no longer a place to bury his grandmother. Hubert shut his eyes and tried to focus on anything else. “Were there many casualties?”

“No,” said Edelgard. She laced her fingers together. “No, they did not kill many people at all, but they destroyed the roads and port. It is going to be difficult to get food into the city itself.”

Jasper Bergliez moved some pieces representing soldiers at Garreg Mach to Enbarr, “The troops here are just about finished sealing the Abyss, they will go to Enbarr next and repair the damage.” Jasper paused and began to move the pieces of army on the Arundel lands towards Arianrhod. “Our next step needs to be an incursion into Faerghus.”

Arundel’s eyes narrowed in on Jasper as he placed his hand over the war master’s to stop the movement of the tokens. “You seem to be under the impression that I do not need to be consulted on strategy, allow me to correct that little misunderstanding.” He pushed the troops back to the Adrestian border.

Jasper grunted as he stared at the regent, “My apologies Lord Arundel, I assumed when you allowed me to continue as the Minister of War, that you intended me to run things.”

“Yes, run them in the way we agreed upon,” said Arundel as his voice turned to ice like he was a teacher reprimanding a least favorite pupil. His eyes almost seemed to glow with the intensity of his anger. “We will take the Alliance and then the Kingdom. Why are you suddenly attempting to change course?”

“I believe this will shorten the war,” said Jasper with the confidence of twenty plus years of experience in such matters. “How the Daphnel army fought tells me our fight the Alliance will go slow. Today shows us that the Kingdom is more vulnerable at present, we ought to be focusing our energies there.”

“I will handle the Kingdom,” said Arundel.

Jasper’s already big nostrils flared even wider. “You, alone?”

“Diplomatically,” said Arundel with a sneer in his voice that made Hubert’s skin crawl. “The Kingdom is unstable, we need only find the right pressure to apply and the Kingdom will consume itself. They have already begun, just let the wound fester a little longer and Rufus Blaiddyd will be begging to join us.”

Edelgard had her hands together and up at her mouth as she stared at the map. Finally she let lowered her fingers down and looked at Jasper. “Count von Bergliez, I appreciate your strategy but Claude von Riegan has allied with Almyra. We must bring the Alliance to their knees and quickly as retribution for Enbarr.” She looked at Fort Merceus on the map and their marker over the bridge at Myrddin. “We must keep our borders safe, now more than ever. Our food supply is of pinnacle importance. Hold that bridge, protect Gronder. We will began a march on Derdriu once we are sure Brigid is secure.”

“Yes your majesty,” said Jasper. His bow was as stiff as his voice.

“You may be excused from the council chamber, all of you,” said Edelgard as she stared at those still remaining. Hubert did not have to ask to know that he was not included in that dismissal.

As the room cleared, Arundel’s attention became fixed upon Hubert. He waited until the door was shut to speak. “I was not shocked when I was informed the Lamine donor died. She was fragile when I left and it was only a matter of time before she ran dry.”

 _The Lamine donor_. She had a name. Hubert tried to keep his mouth firmly shut even as the alcohol tried tempting him to yell every thought within his head.

“However, I still have plenty of use for a body even after its spark is out,” said Arundel as he looked Hubert over with extreme displeasure. “So imagine my reaction when I had her coffin opened up and found a bunch of rocks within.”

They had not had time to bury the fake coffin, although Hubert had the feeling Arundel was not above grave robbing to get what he wanted. Arundel drummed his fingers upon the table, “Where is she?”

Hubert shrugged, the alcohol filling his every move with contempt. He honestly had no idea where on earth Ingrid would fly them. Arundel’s stare only hardened as Hubert’s silence stretched on. “And the other, the Daphnel crest bearer, where is she?” Hubert pursed his lips as he prepared himself for whatever punishment was about to drop. He half expected a dark spike to burst through his chest at any moment.

Arundel rose and walked over, stopping behind Hubert’s chair. The regent placed his icy hands upon Hubert’s shoulders. Here he was close enough for Hubert to smell him. The Agarthan was overly perfumed and the smell turned Hubert's stomach. Arundel's grip clawed into Hubert producing far more pain than any bony fingers had a right to.

“Your quarrel is with me,” said Edelgard as she stared at Arundel. Hubert wished she had not said that, but Edelgard continued. “He was acting under my orders to free those two. I told you I do not wish to use crest beasts in battle and I meant it. I will not allow you to make more stones.”

Arundel’s hands released Hubert as the regent began to glide towards the Emperor. Hubert shot up from his chair, “She’s lying, she didn’t—”

Arundel’s hand flicked in Hubert’s direction. Hubert’s eyes were blinded with purple light as his body fell limp along the ground. He doubled over as the contents of his stomach viciously worked their way up his throat and onto the ancient carpet. Every inch of his body went to pins and needles as he tried desperately to get up.

He could not see what was happening but he could hear Arundel speaking. “Foolish child, do not forget who made you.”

Edelgard screamed in a way unfitting of a head of state. Hubert struggled to pull himself up against the stinging spell that had been cast upon him and saw Edelgard cradling the side of her head in horror. Arundel sneered at the two of them, “Let this be a lesson on obedience and the true nature of power.” He slowly extracted himself from the room leaving Edelgard and Hubert alone.

Hubert supported himself against a chair as his limbs continued to wake up. “What did he do?” From where he was standing all he could see was that on the left side of her head there was now a twisted black horn sending her crown off kilter.

Edelgard kept her hand firmly cupped over her left eye. “I, I don’t know what he did,” Edelgard’s words spilled out like blood from a wound. “It hurts.”

Hubert stumbled to her side and cautiously placed his hands around hers, “Please, let me look.” Up close the horn was coated in blood and clearly emerging from her skull.

Edelgard tremored as he helped to pull her hand from the side of her face. Her eye, normally violet, had turned red and where the white had been was now an inky black. A few dark scales had formed around her left ear, and the skin on her neck had taken on a grayish hue. Tears poured from Edelgard’s unaffected eye. “What is happening on my back?”

Hubert gulped as he helped her lean forward and looked at the two tight knobs pressing against the fabric of her dress. Hubert’s fingers were shaking as he undid the buttons down the back of her bodice and exposed what looked like the start of two blackened wings trying to burst from her skin.

Edelgard touched the horn and suppressed a sob. She ripped off her gloves and inspected her hands. The nails on the left had taken on a darker shade and seemed unusually pointed. “He, he forced my second crest to activate.”

“But you’re not a mindless monster,” said Hubert, cursing his drunk tongue as Edelgard’s face contorted at his words.

“I have a horn Hubert, a horn!” She pushed herself away from him. “I need a mirror, I need to know the extent of the damage.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to continue to transform?” Hubert’s heart was seizing up at the thought.

Edelgard paused and took a few deep breaths. “No, no I don’t think so.”

“That’s good,” said Hubert as he continued to take in her half monstrous form. “We can hide this—”

Edelgard’s red eye flashed at him and seemed to glow, “How?” She took a few more breaths as she scratched at the scaly patches on her face, “How on earth can we possibly hide this?”

Hubert straightened up and pointed to her horn, “We will refit your crown to go over that.” He rubbed his lips as he thought about the rest, “Gloves will conceal your nails, and we can have your dresses adjusted with a cutout on the back. Then you can wear a cape.”

“And this?” Edelgard pointed hopelessly to the left side of her face.

“An eye patch,” offered Hubert. “A big one. Or what about a veil, you are in mourning—” Edelgard let out a shuddering breath at the suggestion. Hubert’s hands fell hopelessly to his side, “Why did you take the fall for me?”

“He would have killed you,” whispered Edelgard. “I knew Arundel might punish me. I just never imagined that he would turn me into this.”

“There must be a way to change you back,” said Hubert, in defiance of all he knew to be true. “And I will find it.”

Edelgard’s eyes grew downcast, “I believe this is a one way change, and that I will only get worse.”

“No,” said Hubert, now growing angry at the unfairness of it all. He had lost too much today, he was not losing her too.

“Just take me back to my bedroom. I am not to be disturbed, I need time to think,” said Edelgard. Hubert instinctively took off his cape to drape it over her shoulders to help hide her away.

Once safe in her room Hubert realized he was going to have a hell of a time convincing her to come back out. In the days that followed Edelgard’s room became her dark sanctuary. With the blinds drawn and only a single candle lit she easily hid away in shadows. Hubert lied and told everyone she’d caught a bad cold and needed rest.

She held court from her bed to meet with the remaining members of the strike force. Ferdinand was already on his way to Fort Merceus with the Bergliezes. Ashe had gone north with a host to secure the span of land between Castle Gaspard and Garreg Mach. Next Petra was summoned for an audience.

“Petra, you will go to Brigid, you will help rescue your home,” said Edelgard softly.

Petra crept closer to the bed uninvited, “Edelgard, why are you hiding away from me?”

Edelgard sucked in a pained breath as she leaned back and as out of sight as possible. “I am very ill, please keep your distance.”

Petra recoiled and nodded. “I will be saving Brigid, I will return to you in victory.” She sounded so poised and sure of herself.

Hubert felt a pang in his heart as Edelgard whispered, “No.”

“No? I do not have understanding,” started Petra, her shock causing her to stumble with her words.

“You will stay in Brigid after it is secured,” said Edelgard. The emperor shifted and sat up straighter in her bed, “You have been away for far too long. Someday you will be queen, but to do so you must win more than your land, you must win your people to your side or they will never support you.”

“You are really sending me home?” Petra looked like she might break into tears at the news. She had not been to Brigid in over a decade.

Edelgard nodded, “Initially, I said no when you asked because I wanted you here with me, but that was selfish. Your people need you, and you need to stay with them. You belong there.” Hubert felt a bitterness in his heart that really Edelgard did not want Petra to see the monster she’d become.

Petra bowed her head, and then looked at Edelgard with a certain fire to her eyes. “I am grateful, but I am worried.”

Hubert could hear the frown on Edelgard’s lips as she spoke. “Worried about what?”

“I worry that you will forget me. I fight with you so that you will know Brigid is strong, so that you will see how valuable we—”

“I know your strength,” said Edelgard as she raised her hand to silence Petra. “I have known your value, and it is irreplaceable.”

Hubert’s head angled slightly towards Edelgard. He wondered if Petra had any clue the depths of Edelgard’s true affections, not as a Emperor to a vassal state, but of a friend for another.

Petra’s hands rested at her side as she stood up as straight as possible. “You are knowing my dreams, my Emperor, do you think I can achieve them?”

Edelgard leaned ever so slightly into the light so that Petra could see her. “You wish to walk by my side as an equal.” She held out a paper. Petra cautiously took the heavy scroll and looked at it in confusion. The room was far too dim to have any hope of reading it. Edelgard sunk back into the shadows. “That is a treaty. If Brigid remains loyal, when Fodlan is united you will stand on your own, independent.”

“And if Brigid is not remaining loyal to you?” asked Petra.

Edelgard did not hesitate in her response, “Then I fear you and I will meet again as enemies instead of allies.” She gave a small hand signal and Hubert stepped in to usher Petra out of the room. “Thank you Petra, you may go. Good luck.”

Out in the hall Petra clutched the precious promise of freedom to her chest and stared at Hubert with hurt and elation mixed in her eyes. “What is truly being wrong with her?”

“It’s the crests, they make her ill,” said Hubert as he tried to scoot Petra down the hall and away from Edelgard’s door.

“So ill I cannot look upon her face?” Petra dug her heels into the ground. “I am knowing what a hostage looks like Hubert, what is happening to her?”

Hubert had no idea what was going on between Petra and Edelgard in their long hours spent together but it felt like he was managing the Emperor’s break-up rather than a political alliance. “If you believe her a hostage then you know that she is not free to truly speak,” said Hubert quietly as he towered over Petra. “Go home while you still can before someone forces her to rescind the offer.” He knew full well if Jasper Bergliez learned of this development he would argue to stop it.

He waited until Petra was clear of the hall to reenter the Emperor’s bedroom. “That was not strategic,” whispered Hubert, in one last effort to change Edelgard’s mind. She was sending every friend away from her and Hubert worried he was next.

“What is the saying again? If you love something, let it go?” whispered Edelgard as she laid down in her bed. “Please, leave me, I need some time alone.”

***

Mercedes’ eyes filtered open to stare at a stark white ceiling in a spotless sunlit room. She was still alive. She hurt like she ought to be dead, but Mercedes was here in the safety of what she recognized to be the church in Fhirdiad. How many countless hours had she spent working in this infirmary? However, if she was here and alive it had to mean Emile was dead. The realization washed over her in a wave of pain.

She felt like her body was being squeezed through a wringer and the nausea was overwhelming. Mercedes rolled to her side and retched right over the side of the bed she found herself in. The sound of her vomit hitting the floor was loud and wet. Mercedes heard the far off cry of someone alerted to her condition.

“You’re awake,” said a woman with a warm Fhirdiad accent. A cheerful church healer filtered into Mercedes’ view. Mercedes found herself trying to bend in half to stop the terrible pain. The healer pursed her lips with worry and pulled back the sheets. Mercedes felt chilly air on her legs but the healer looked incredibly relieved, “Oh goddess, good, it’s just your monthly courses starting.”

Mercedes wanted to bite her pillow to stop from moaning in agony. She was used to an unpleasant cramp now and then, but this felt like she was truly dying and besides, she was certain she had just had her period. She distinctly remembered having it the night she tried that horrid dark spell on Hubert.

 _Hubert_. Mercedes mind flooded with everything that had happened from her brother being run through to her release. It simply could not have been a month since then. “What day is it?”

The healer was busy with the bloody sheets, but paused what she was doing to spare Mercedes a sympathetic look. “It’s the start of Lone Moon.” So it had not been a month at all. It had been maybe a week at most, and she’d spent that hooked up to a machine. Mercedes tried to sit up and found the healer rushing to help steady her. “Oh you poor dear, it appears the silphium is hitting you rather hard.”

Mercedes gave the healer a confused look. She knew what silphium was, and that she absolutely had not needed an abortifacient. “Why on earth was I given that?” That at least explained the terrible cramps presently attempting to kill her.

The healer’s eyebrows rose up with worry and apology, “You were a prisoner of those dastards for so long. I can’t imagine the kinds of horrors you were subjected to. We just wanted to make sure you didn’t bring home anything _unwanted_ with you.”

Mercedes was shocked into silence at the speculation of what the healer thought had happened to her. Mercedes complied quietly as the healer helped to clean her up and get her into the proper undergarments and fresh sheets. Mercedes was given a draught to help with the overwhelming pain.

As her senses dulled, Mercedes stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry. She knew she had not been pregnant, but if she had been she would have preferred to have been asked what she wanted to do about it. However she found she did not have an easy answer. Hubert clearly did not want to be a father by the way he’d meticulously avoided spilling inside her. She wanted deeply to be a mother, but not like this. Still, it felt like something very important had been decided for her without any consideration of her feelings. It was just another drop in the bucket of things she’d had no say in.

Mercedes started sobbing softly as she thought about her last few days at Garreg Mach. Despite her efforts to prevent it, her brother had been cut down by her friends; if he hadn’t been he surely would have murdered them all. Then she had been left in a cell and then treated like a traitor by the man she had come to feel quite attached to. Finally when she had been given the gift of redeeming herself and saving Emile, Hubert had taken that away too. She never asked him to save her.

The snippets of all he’d said to her echoed in her mind. His suggestion that they pursue a more serious relationship had been unexpected both in its delivery and how open she found herself to it. Yet then he had been so very hurtful towards her after her betrayal was realized. Then he’d let her go. Now Mercedes had to survive knowing that she’d gotten her brother killed.

Mercedes did not know how long she spent limp and sniffling but eventually she had a visitor. Ingrid looked like she had been crying often too. She was dressed like a church squire and her hair was freshly trimmed. “I brought you soup, I imagine you have to be really hungry,” said Ingrid.

Mercedes was in fact starving, but she didn’t have very many words to share at the moment. Mercedes needed help sitting up and could barely hold her spoon. Thankfully Ingrid filled the silence as she fed Mercedes bite by bite. “I’m glad you’re awake, when you passed out on the pegasus I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to wake back up.”

Mercedes vaguely remembered trying to touch the moon in her delirious state. Ingrid stared at the nearly empty bowl of simple stew, “I’ve been trying to understand why they let us go, and I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

Mercedes curled her legs up and leaned back into her pillows. She didn’t have an answer other than Hubert didn’t want Arundel to turn her and Ingrid into crest stones. A tiny part of her wondered if it was truly just because he didn’t want Mercedes to die, but she didn’t wish to say such things to Ingrid. She had a feeling Ingrid wouldn’t believe it or attempt to understand Mercedes’ complex feelings about him.

“I’ve decided to stay in Fhirdiad,” said Ingrid as she looked in the direction of one of the windows.

“Oh, for how long?” It was winter and it made sense to stay until spring when the snows receded. It would be good to have a friend nearby. “I expect you can’t wait to go home to your family.”

Ingrid’s face was shadowed with despair. “I can’t. I got our Relic destroyed, I can’t face my family after that. I’ve ruined us.”

“That’s not true,” insisted Mercedes. She vaguely remembered coming into possession of her own family relic, and wondered where it had ended up.

“I’m joining the knights of Seiros,” said Ingrid. That explained the outfit. “You should join with me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not knight material,” whispered Mercedes. She was tired, and looking forward to going home and resting. “But I’m glad you’re doing something you’ve always wanted to do.” All Ingrid seemed to want was to become a knight.

“You could be a paladin, easily,” said Ingrid; she sounded a little desperate to have Mercedes stay with her. “Or a bishop. Besides, you of all people love the goddess. Why not fight to restore her order?”

Mercedes felt it was a bit more complicated than love or hate. “Things before the war weren’t exactly good Ingrid.” Mercedes didn’t want to have an argument as their first real conversation in a while. She softened her tone, “Forgive me, it’s just been a very long year.” Ingrid nodded in agreement and dropped the topic. Mercedes forced a smile and took one of Ingrid’s hands to give it a small squeeze, “I’ll think about the knights of Seiros, I just need some time to recuperate.”

***

Agatha was interred in the Garreg Mach graveyard in the hole Hubert had dug for Mercedes. Now that Arundel knew the gist of what had happened there was no point in pretending Mercedes was dead. Hubert sought out anything at all to keep himself busy, including packing away Mercedes’ possessions.

Hubert did not wish for Mercedes’ room to get picked over by the vultures looking for stuff. Into her travel trunk went the ruffled dress she’d spent so many hours on, her fancy blue earrings, her worn books of prayer. Her other clothes and quilts, her pink mittens, a handmade sweater riddled with small imperfections, and the perfume she wore on special occasions all landed within. Hubert continued to clean and sort as he went through all the many teapots that she’d acquired.

Her sketchbook was out on her desk next to her tin of calming herbs. Hubert paused, remembering her sketches of the Abyssians and their strange marks. That he might need to keep.

He flipped through her drawings — children in the market, cats napping in the sun, stacks of glazed cookies — and landed on an unexpected portrait of himself. It was the last thing she’d sketched and dated on the night of their disastrous last sexual encounter. He stared at the intimate details of his sleeping face and the care she’d used in softening his features. He was certain she’d embellished his face to make it more handsome, perhaps this what she wished he actually looked like. Hubert immediately tore out the page and crumpled it instinctively. No one should ever see that. She should have never drawn it as evidence of their affair.

In her nightstand Mercedes had floral handkerchiefs, pressed flowers, and book of ghost tales lifted from the library. He sighed as he pulled free a diminutive goddess statue. It was the kind of cheap trinket available in the market back when the monastery was still run by Rhea. This one was particularity generic and no bigger than his thumb. As Hubert ran his fingers over it he wondered if Mercedes had ever held it while she prayed.

He slid that into his pocket. It had a nice weight to it while being small enough not to be obvious along his pant leg. The goddess statue joined the broken wooden pegasus wing he’d taken to carrying around once more. They served as two totems for two people he’d hurt more than he’d helped.

Hubert stared at the full trunk and wondered where it ought to go. He had Mercedes’ address in Fhirdiad from her letters sent home, but no idea if and when she’d return let alone who he could trust to take it there. For now he decided it could wait safely in Seteth’s old quarters with his grandmother’s things. Hubert sank his hands into his pockets and wondered what he ought to do with himself as he stared at the remnants of those no longer with him.

Above him the ceiling creaked with the sounds of someone moving overhead. _Arundel_. Hubert stared at the ceiling for a long while as he listened to the regent’s movements. If anyone knew how Edelgard’s transformation might be reversed it was the one who made her this way in the first place. Hubert’s eyes shut as a simply awful plan unfolded in his head.

There was nothing left to hurt Hubert with. His very worst fear, that Edelgard would be physically transformed into a monster, was now realized. The last family member he felt any love towards was dead. The only person he’d trusted to expose his most intimate desires to was probably a half a continent away and never coming back. Hubert had not been ready before, but he was ready now. Edelgard could take on the church, but this was his personal war and he was finally free to fight it. He was going to kill Arundel.

Hubert dressed exceptionally well for the meeting. He wore his best uniform and had it freshly starched. His black hair was greased back and he made sure he could see himself in his boots they were so highly polished.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me my lord,” said Hubert as he poured Arundel a cup of coffee. They were meeting in the regent’s chambers and Hubert felt like he’d wandered into a snake pit. The wrong move now could threatened everything.

“My time is limited, so keep it quick Vestra,” warned Arundel. He looked like he was packing up to leave but Hubert resisted the urge to probe as to where he was going. “I expect you will begin with an apology.”

“An apology and an offer,” said Hubert as he kept eye contact with the regent.

“Go on,” drawled Arundel as he inspected the coffee cup. He did not drink it.

“I am sorry for undermining your work my lord,” said Hubert, flawlessly delivering the lie. “I have long been loyal to Emperor Edelgard, so much so I often fail to question the wisdom of her decisions.” Hubert forced his eyes down to his mug as if he were reflecting on a hopeless unrequited crush. “My fondness for her has blinded me.” Everyone thought he was a mindless sycophant including Arundel, so he might as well just use his image to his advantage.

Arundel sneered as if Hubert was the most pathetic trash he’d ever had the misfortune of seeing. Hubert brought his gaze back up to the regent, “However, in light of recent events, I can see now that Emperor Edelgard actively works against her own self interest.” He took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup back upon its saucer. “She does not wish to use crest beasts in battle, but clearly your strategy would make this war more efficient.”

“And what has prompted this change of heart?” Arundel’s voice dripped with suspicion.

Hubert laced his gloved fingers together to appear as calm as possible. “House Vestra has survived the centuries by serving the Hresvelg monarchy. However, if my lineage is to exist in the new world order I believe I must serve the true power in charge.” Arundel was studying him with a renewed interest and intensity. Hubert focused on appearing as sincere as possible. “I think we both know who will occupy the throne of Fodlan when the dust has settled. I seek to serve you, Lord Arundel.”

Arundel let out a contemptuous laugh, and then drank the offered coffee. Hubert took that as a small signal of trust. Arundel eased back in his chair, “What use would I possibly have for you?”

“I have the Emperor’s trust. She resists cooperating with you, but if the ideas appear to come from me, well, she may prove more compliant,” offered Hubert.

“I do not believe you Vestra,” said Arundel with a plain look. “I do not think you would be so duplicitous with Edelgard.”

Hubert took a deep breath and prepared to truly sell himself. “My motives are honestly self serving. I would seek to be your ready disciple my lord. Your power is,” Hubert paused as if in awe, “Your power is truly beyond my comprehension. I wish to be what you are, an Agarthan—”

“And where did you hear that word?” asked Arundel as a sinister curiosity seeped into his words.

“Forgive me my lord,” begged Hubert as he left the table to get down on his knees. He hoped he was not overdoing it but Arundel seemed to delight in Hubert’s humiliation. “I have been trying to learn more about you from afar, but now I seek to understand from the source.” Hubert looked up at Arundel with as much passion as he could muster. “Please my lord—”

“Your groveling is unsightly,” said Arundel. Still, he presented Hubert with one of his ring adorned fingers. The ring’s stone was purple, with the emblem of an eye carved within it. Hubert gladly parted his lips to kiss it. “Get up,” ordered Arundel. He looked Hubert up and down with mild interest, “Consider this a trial period. Prove your loyalty and your usefulness and perhaps I will share a few secrets with you.” He paused and gave Hubert a thin smile, “You may have what it takes to join us.”

“Thank you my lord, you will not regret accepting the services of house Vestra,” said Hubert as he dropped into the deepest bow he could produce. The game was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not realize I would become one of those people writing a single long fic for the better part of a year, so thanks for sticking around especially as the FE3H fandom slows down (the hour of the wackest rare pairs is truly upon us). 
> 
> I know things are skewing a little darker than expected (or maybe that's what you're here for, I have no idea what my brand is or if I even have one haha), but I have been waiting to write semi-Hegemon Edelgard for many months, so I'm personally excited to finally be at this point and to get some important players into the same place.


	41. Mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a flashback to Jeralt and Sitri, and thus the subject of pregnancy comes up. Full disclosure because I know it is a big nope for some readers, pregnancy will appear again in this fic (which has been foreshadowed), but there will be no graphic childbirth scenes/sad outcomes other than Sitri.

It was apparently not the first time Felix had punched Sylvain, though it was the first time Annie had ever seen them truly fight. It was over about as quick as it started with Sylvain keeping Felix pinned to the ground, his arms rendered ineffective and his legs in the wrong position to do anything. One of Sylvain’s hands was flush against Felix’s face, making it hard for Felix to move his lips. “It’s been three days, this needs to stop,” growled Felix.

Sylvain did not budge. “I know, I know,” said Sylvain in a low voice as his eyes remained on Dimitri in the distance. The clearing in the woods they had taken a break in was filled with scattered clumps of wounded soldiers. It was evening and the light was fading, casting a darkened shadow upon the woods surrounding them. No one dared to light up a fire.

The Kingdom’s unsanctioned army was dragging themselves north. They had stopped to rest but they’d need to move again soon. The Empire’s dogs were ever nipping at their heels. It felt like they were getting closer, and these precious breaks were growing shorter.

“He belongs in the ground,” said Felix, his voice finally breaking. His father had been dead for three days, but Dimitri would not put him down. The prince seemed determined to carry Rodrigue all the way home.

“We’ll bury him in Fhirdiad,” promised Sylvain. Attempts to get Dimitri to release Rodrigue had only been met with violence. It was painful to watch but it was safest for everyone to just let it continue. As far as Annette could tell the prince had yet to sleep since the battle, and she suspected they were going to have to move quickly to deal with the body as soon as Dimitri fell asleep.

Felix struggled against Sylvain once more, but failed to move the larger man. He finally went limp. “Fine. Let me up,” said Felix through gritted teeth. Sylvain slowly got off him and Felix tore off in the opposite direction of the prince.

Annette made to go after him when Sylvain put a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Just give him a few minutes to cool down. Trust me.”

Annette closed her eyes and resolved to count to one hundred. Then she’d go after Felix. A year ago Annette had found herself in a similar position of fleeing north from Garreg Mach. Back then she’d only had Sylvain and Ingrid and no real plan. The uncertainty had made things terrifying. This time she was surrounded by many people and there was no argument of where to go. Charon was the closest friendly place. Yet somehow this journey felt so much worse than the last one. Perhaps it was because what little hope she had had now dried up and fled her bones.

As she focused on her counting a subtle sound caught her ears. It was meant to mimic a bird, but that was definitely a scout giving a signal. Annette’s eyes shot open as she tried to figure out what direction it had come from. Goddess, how had the Adrestians caught up to them already? They were already solidly into Kingdom territory but Annette feared they’d be hunted all the way to Fhirdiad at this rate.

Sylvain had gone silent and still as his hands gripped his relic. The bird call sounded once more. Annette hefted Crusher, ready to rain down hell on whoever came through the darkened tree line into their clearing.

They did not see the black armor of Imperial soldiers, but the deep blue griffin of Faerghus emblazoned on their visitor’s chest. Duchess Enora Fraldarius strode forward with her rapier on one hip and the heads of three men on the other. Her small host of assassins and soldiers slid into the clearing in silence, also carting plenty of heads. The camp reacted with relief as Count Galatea strode forward to meet her.

Enora loosened the heads and tossed them into the dirt at the Count’s feet. “You had Imperial hunters on your tail, now you don’t.”

Count Galatea looked at the severed heads for a few moments in exhausted silence. His stare was heavy as his eyes finally came up to meet hers, “Enora, something’s happened—”

Enora stiffened and interrupted him. “Is my son with you?”

“Mom?” Felix ran to her and Enora wrapped her arms around him. Relief filled Annette’s heart as she watched the reunion. This was at the very least one small good moment in a sea of bad.

“Thank the goddess you’re safe,” said Enora as she let him bury his head against her chest. Enora looked around at what remained of the rogue Faerghus army, “Where is Rodrigue?”

“He fought bravely,” said Count Galatea with a somber tone.

Enora staggered at the news as Felix caught her. It was now her turn to shed some tears. “I see,” said Enora as she tried to force her face towards composure. She sounded like all the air was knocked out of her.

Felix pulled away from his mother looking conflicted, “Dimitri is trying to carry him all the way home.”

Enora swallowed back her tears and scanned the clearing until her eyes fell upon the prince in the distance. “I will speak with him,” said Enora, ignoring anyone that attempted to dissuade her.

Annette followed the little nervous procession trailing the duchess. Enora walked with self assuredness as she approached the prince. Enora got down on one knee to bow, “Your highness.”

Dimitri stared at her for a few moments before bowing his head back. He did not speak. He looked like he had seen more than a battle, he looked like he’d seen an entire war.

Enora stood back up and stared at her husband’s body. Rodrigue had died after being pulled from his horse and set upon by a mob. The Aegis shield, still fixed to his arm, was only so large and it had failed to stop every blow. After three days of being carried in the cold of winter his skin had taken on a blueish pale tone, and there was a smell starting.

“Prince Dimitri?” Enora’s voice was calm and even. Dimitri’s eye came up to meet hers. “Thank you for guarding my husband, but I will take him now.” Perhaps it was the way mothers spoke with no room for argument, but to Annette’s great surprise and relief, Dimitri consented to handing Rodrigue over.

The pyre they built was easily as tall as Annette. Enora was up on the top looking down at her husband with a resigned sadness on her face. She smoothed his hair back and let out an exhausted sigh. “You were an honorable lord, a fair husband to me, and one of the most stubborn men I have ever met.” She made no comment on what sort of father he had been, good or bad. Annette got the impression he’d had his share of highs and lows, much like her own absent father.

Enora shut her eyes, and Annette could not help but feel she was spying on something intimate she was not meant to see. “I hope it was worth it,” whispered Enora as she leaned down and planted a last kiss upon Rodrigue’s forehead.

Sylvain helped her down to take her place next to Felix, who now clutched the Aegis shield against his chest. Annette and Sylvain quietly weaved fire in their hands and then let it catch the wood ablaze. Dimitri watched the bright display in total silence. He was on his knees, and from his face it looked like all his emotions — good and ugly — were burning away too, leaving only a husk of himself behind.

***

Byleth woke with tears on his face and a gnawing feeling in his heart. He stared at the cave ceiling as he tried to remember who and where he was. He’d dreamed of a battle at Garreg Mach, but not the one he’d fought in a year ago. This one was very different and much more desperate. He had seen his students, not their smiling faces, but dark shadows masquerading as their forms.

In all his dreams of late his students were turning one by one into demonic beasts liked he’d seen happen to Miklan in the Conrad Tower. Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri all towered above him in their twisted forms. Even the ones he’d maybe overlooked in school as being too sweet and nice — Marianne, Annette, Mercedes — all seemed to have monsters hidden inside them.

Byleth sat up and saw Flayn and Seteth in their respective bedrolls, fast asleep. Flayn had physically recovered from her failed attempt to transform, but he could sense how her pride was still wounded. Dinners were an ever quiet affair.

Byleth shuffled from his strange nest and staggered out of the shelter. The night air was cool and nipping at his skin, but the view of the stars was worth the chill. Byleth climbed until he’d reached the grassy plateau situated above their hidden home. Byleth settled back into the soft earth and looked up at the heavens.

The Blue Sea star was nowhere to be seen, it was not the right time of year. Yet he tried to ask Sothis a question anyway, “You keep showing me the crested ones, why?”

Only silence greeted him in return. Byleth thought again about his question and supposed it wasn’t just crested students that he saw in these dreams. Marianne didn’t have a crest that he knew of. Ferdinand and Linhardt had crests, but he never saw them in these terrible visions. He was searching for a pattern that refused to make itself clear and asking questions of a Goddess who probably couldn’t answer.

Still, Byleth tried to speak to Sothis, “I don’t know if you’re in me, or if you are me, but I miss you.” More silence, but that was what he expected.

Byleth relaxed into a comfortable position to sleep out here in the cool night. He’d always preferred sleeping outside and had never quite gotten used to living indoors. He tried one last ask, “Please, why is this happening to me?” That question did garner a response.

Still staring at the sky, Byleth fell through time. He landed in a past that was not so long ago with a person whose face pained him to see. “Dad,” whispered Byleth to a memory of Jeralt that could not perceive him.

A small hand found his, and Sothis looked up at him. “You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Byleth was overjoyed to see her again. He nodded before asking any questions concerning what she was about to show him. The Goddess grinned and laughed, “Some things can’t be unseen.” She didn’t give him a chance to back out before pulling him full body into his father’s memory.

*

He hadn’t been back to Garreg Mach in a long spell. Wilhelm, now Jeralt, had spent some time sailing, sometimes wondering what it would be like to drown and end it all. If he did that though, then there would be no one to keep hunting Agarthans abroad. So he stayed up on his ship and just watched the dark waters beneath him instead. Touring Albinea, Morfis, and Dagda was like walking into the world he used to imagine Fodlan could become. Coming home was like walking backward into a place that was just as stuck as he was. He’d been around the world twice over but all roads eventually led back to _her_.

Seiros was going by Rhea now, and pretending to be a Bishop. Through the years she’d step down from ruling her church while another one of her inner circle took the helm. After laying low for some decades she’d pick a new name and rise again. Right now she was in a down time while some other Archbishop danced like a marionette at her direction. Human memories were short, and she knew how to take full advantage of that to make it seem like she was simply from a long line of women serving the church.

“Wilhelm,” said Rhea with a big smile as he returned to this familiar post. At least Garreg Mach had changed a bit, unlike the rest of the continent.

“It’s Jeralt now,” he said with an awkward scratch at the back of his head. “Jeralt Reas Eisner, reporting for duty.”

She regarded him from her ornate chair in the advisory room. Her smile betrayed a certain fondness for him that he suspected was the product of a selective memory. Their history was complicated to put it bluntly, but being lovers and rulers was in their distant past. Now they were just old friends, very old friends. “It’s good to have you back. We’ll have to come up with a suitable story for you I suppose.” She twisted a long strand of pale green hair around her finger, “The blade breaker. How does that sound?”

“Dramatic,” grunted Jeralt as he looked down to where his jerkin obscured the scars from when his sword had shattered into him so many centuries before. If he thought about it too long he remembered dying in his daughter’s arms and the total darkness that followed, and and so he tried not to think too much. He much preferred drinking than idle thoughts about his past.

“Well, the new captain of the knights of Seiros needs to be a storied warrior with a catchy name,” said Rhea with an easy tenor.

“I thought we were supposed to be keeping a low profile,” said Jeralt with a wince.

“Come now, we’re approaching the millennium festival, you deserve a spot of honor,” insisted Rhea with a dismissive wave.

“That’s what, a quarter century away?” Yet what was twenty five years to someone who had lived for over a thousand? It was barely a grain of sand in their massive hour glasses.

Rhea smiled and shrugged, “There abouts.” She got up and Jeralt tried not to stare at the how the years had subtly changed her. She seemed softer now, or more tired, he couldn’t quite put his thumb on it. Either way this was not the wild eyed warrior who had run Nemesis through and cradled the Sword of the Creator to her bosom like a child, and for that Jeralt was grateful. Rhea seemed more mellow and relaxed, and if he was being optimistic, she seemed happy. It was nice to see after so many years of heartache.

She led him to the familiar third floor where many lifetimes ago they’d shared a bedchamber. Even if she wasn’t Archbishop by name, she was not giving up these rooms or the big balcony that overlooked everything. “We constructed a new greenhouse, it’s just opened,” she said as she pointed it out. “It’s bigger, we can feed more students that way.” Her eyes swung to the market, “Now that the Officer’s Academy are taking care of local bandits for training, we have many merchants. This might be a city again, someday.”

“Cities are overrated,” said Jeralt as he looked at the bustling area at the entrance to the monastery. “I came here by way of Enbarr.”

“I haven’t been to Enbarr since the dissolution of the southern Church,” said Rhea with a contemptuous snort. Jeralt remembered that fiasco; Adrestia was now like a black sheep in the herd. The Church’s favor focused on the Kingdom, and the Alliance when they cooperated. “What’s it like?”

“Eh, parts are the same. The church is still there, just, closed.” Adrestia’s faith in the Goddess still seemed strong, but their faith in the Church had never recovered from their land being halved while their tithes increased. “There’s a big opera house, and the palace has a obnoxious statue of yours truly out front,” he said with a chuckle. He declined to mention the equally large statue of their son. That was a painful wedge between them. Things were never the same after Vestra confessed to killing Lycaon. For Seiros it had been a sign that humans would never let her and her kind be. Since then she’d been experimenting in a desperate bid to bring her mother, and by extension Sothis’ devastating power, back. Wilhelm wanted no part in it, and that was why he left. He wanted to believe Seiros just wanted her mother back, but the part of him that remembered being a little boy clinging to a raft with his mother as a world destroying flood hit the land. It had swallowed up his father and his siblings with indifference. If Sothis did return, Wilhelm hoped she wouldn’t attempt to finish the job of wiping out the human race.

“Mom, oh—”

Jeralt and Rhea spun around from their view to face a peculiar greenish-teal haired interruption. She had Rhea’s signatures all over her: an almost unreal level of beauty and grace, delicate features as if shaped from a memory of a Goddess long gone, and sinewy limbs spun from dreams. She also looked, to put it bluntly, absolutely annoyed.

“Sitri, oh Sitri this is Captain Jeralt, he’s just returned to the monastery after a long tour,” lied Rhea with ease.

Sitri did a flawless cutesy, “A pleasure Captain Jeralt.” She gave her mother an impatient look. Jeralt missed his own daughter terribly, but he absolutely did not miss having a rebellious youth living under his roof.

Rhea didn’t falter, “Did you need me for something in particular?”

“I’m looking for that book on Fodlan’s insects, the encyclopedia,” said Sitri with the sort of air that this book was the most important thing in her world. “I’ve looked all over and it’s nowhere.”

“You’ll have to talk to Tomas,” said Rhea making it clear this was not her problem.

“No, then he’ll think I lost it, I swear I left it in my room,” began Sitri.

“Oh perhaps Cyril moved it then. I don’t know, check my private office,” said Rhea. Sitri groaned and trudged off in search of her book. Jeralt vaguely remembered Cyril, that little Almyran boy Seiros had given her blood to to save. It was bad enough looking forty forever, he couldn’t imagine being eternally trapped at fourteen. Yet that was Seiros’ way; it was lonely being immortal and she never asked people if they wanted to be resurrected to spend infinite time with her. They were just supposed to be grateful for the pleasure of her company he supposed.

After he was sure they were alone again Jeralt let out a long sigh, “You’re still trying with the crest stone?”

“Sitri is my last,” said Rhea in a heavy hearted voice. “She turned out well, but she’s dying even faster than the last one. It’s been too painful to watch them all fade away like this, especially her. She’s bright, curious, and made of glass.” Rhea put a hand over her chest, “It’s my fault, I must have made a mistake and her lungs were never right.”

There was always something wrong with her little experiments, and they never brought back Sothis. When Wilhem and Seiros had made Lycaon, that had been an act of passion and love. They’d joined their bodies, hell, their souls, and that baby boy had a been a promise of peace. He was going to be the eternal Emperor. It was only now with a couple centuries under his belt that Jeralt could see that wasn’t the brightest idea they’d ever had. Humans weren’t meant to be ruled by one person forever.

The ‘children’ of the saint that followed were not products of chance or even lust. Her partners were picked for their crests and constitution but she found that mere human sires made for poor progeny. Putting Sothis’ crest stone in them just poisoned them or drove them mad.

He’d heard a rumor she asked her brothers for their seed. That drunken story was courtesy of Indech, who slurred his words as he told Jeralt that was his breaking point. He retired to his lake and gladly killed anyone who tried to visit, with the exception of his favorite drinking buddy Wilhelm of course.

Macuil would find such a practice so abhorrent that Seiros dared not ask. Cichol told her he’d buried enough children. In lieu of their contribution she’d used her own blood as the basis of a strange concoction. Another failure was born. After that she stopped carrying them inside herself. Seiros found ways to grow her experiments, more like living dolls than children, from scraps of dragon bones. She’d even used precious pieces of Sothis, excavated from among the roots of the Goddess Tower tree. These she nurtured with crested blood gladly offered by her faithful. Indech claimed those ones rose out of their bloody baths fully formed.

“I know you might not want to hear this, but, I’m happy for you, for getting to the point where you’re done with all that,” said Jeralt.

Rhea gave him a look of remorse and understanding, “It took me centuries to realize that I was hurting myself more than I was helping. The build up of hope each time and the fatal crash of disappointment has grown to be too much. No, it ends with her.” Rhea wiped a tear from her eyes, “She’s been a lovely daughter these last twenty years, but she’s like the flowers she loves so much. She can only be kept so long in a vase.”

After their reunion, Jeralt showed himself out. As he moved through the private quarters he was stopped by Sitri. “You found your book,” he said as he looked down at it clutched to her chest.

“I found _a_ book,” said Sitri cryptically as she obscured its cover. She seemed more demon than nun. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” said Jeralt as he tried to spy the title on the spine.

Sitri moved her arms to block his view and ignored his stupid joke. “How long have you known Rhea?”

Jeralt knew he was good a staying a stone wall when it came to interrogations. “I’ve known your mother a long time.”

Sitri looked him over in a way that made him feel transparent. No one had made him feel this seen in a long time, “So, twenty years or two hundred?”

Jeralt found himself pressing his tongue into the tip of his canine as he looked he over. “What year is it again?”

“1158,” said Sitri as her green eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Okay, then I guess it’s been, oh, hmm,” started Jeralt as he scratched his beard. He smirked at her, “I’ve known her for roughly twelve hundred years.”

Sitri’s eyes bulged, “Oh! I knew it! You’re Wilhelm the first!” She looked as excited as if she’d just picked her first lock.

“Quit yelling,” said Jeralt as he looked around the desolate hall that led towards the stairs. “How’d you know?”

“I saw a portrait of you once, you were dressed better though,” said Sitri, sounding less impressed than before. She returned his self satisfied smirk, “Well welcome home your majesty.”

“Don’t call me that,” warned Jeralt with a laugh. So much for his cover.

Sitri was about to say something else when an eager voice echoed up the stairs, “I found your book Sitri, sorry, it fell behind my bed—” the owner of the voice was a youth that stopped in his tracks as he got to the landing. “Uh, who’s this?” He looked like he could be a student but from the robes he was dressed up in and his haircut, it was clear he was in the seminary and not the officer’s academy.

Sitri straighted up and beamed, “This is Captain Jeralt, of the Knights of Seiros. Captain, meet Alfy.”

“Aelfric, you can call me Aelfric,” corrected the youth, deepening his voice. He was giving Jeralt the old jealous boyfriend once over that he knew so well. It didn’t matter where he traveled, that look translated in every language. Aelfric puffed out his chest a bit and gave his full attention to Sitri, “Shall we finish cataloging the new pollinators needed in the greenhouse now that I have located the encyclopedia?”

Sitri moved fast to pluck the book out of his hands and added it to her stack, “Actually, mother has asked me to give the captain a tour, I’m sure you understand.”

Aelfric looked at Jeralt like the captain had personally punched him in the dick. “Oh, oh of course, you can’t say no to Lady Rhea.”

Sitri’s smile was plastered on her face as she nodded, “Uh-huh, well I just have to grab my cloak. We’ll catch up later Alfy.” Jeralt had been right, she was definitely more demon than nun.

Jeralt felt bad as he watched the whelp running off with his tail between his legs. Sitri ditched her books and had pulled on a thick woolen cape, “Come on, let’s get out in the fresh air.” Jeralt wasn’t sure what he was more surprised by, that she had taken his arm or that he’d let her.

He expected to be bored by Sitri’s tour of a place he knew quite well. Instead he found her take on it all fascinating. She saw Garreg Mach through eyes that hadn’t witnessed the fight for this rock. She hadn’t watched her family swallowed and spit out on the cliffs, or the world try to rip itself in two.

She saw it as a place that grew interesting flowers from all over the world in a greenhouse. It was the small fossils in the stone of the training ground’s facade. It was an ever stocked pond and a market filled with people telling interesting stories. It was the well by the cathedral that had the best damn water in the world and a stable full of wyverns she joked were her cousins. Sitri walked them to the farthest corner of the graveyard, “I already called this spot so don’t even think about it old man.”

Jeralt stared out at the sunset, “It’s a good view.”

Sitri sighed and then bore a smile laced with bitterness and acceptance. “This is the edge of the world, the edge of my world anyway.”

It was a mere sliver of the horizon. Jeralt got claustrophobic just thinking about staying here, forever. “You ever leave this place?”

Sitri looked pained as she sat down in the grass, “Never.” She started to cough, badly, into her hand. As she peeled her pale hand away from her lips it was slick with blood that she discreetly wiped on the ankle of her black stockings. “I’ve never left the monastery, never seen the ocean, never even kissed anyone.”

“Really, because I bet you Alfy would be happy to take care of that last one,” said Jeralt without an ounce of snark. He wasn’t going to laugh at her for this, it was too sad to see. She looked like she should be in the prime of her life, not waiting for it to end.

Sitri settled with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Aelfric is really nice, and he’s a good friend. But he’s twenty, and I’ve been twenty for oh, twenty years? It doesn’t feel that equal.”

She hadn’t gotten a childhood, she’d been born perfectly sculpted into a scale replica of the Goddess. At a certain point staying stuck in place while the world kept moving got old. “Immortality’s a bitch,” said Jeralt with a knowing glance.

“Especially when you’ve been dying since your first breath,” said Sitri as she watched the sun slipping behind the mountains.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” whispered Jeralt, really meaning it. “Thanks for the tour, I’ll see you around.”

They kept bumping into each other to the point even Rhea brought it up. “Sitri has a crush on you,” said Rhea with a small smile as she paged between reports.

Jeralt had a notion of how Sitri felt, and all the flowers he was bringing her wasn’t helping to discourage anything. However he had no idea what Rhea felt, and he felt he owed her a little more than flirting with her daughter behind her back. “Sorry I can put a stop to that,” said Jeralt.

Rhea frowned, “You know she is dying, are you really going to break her heart on top of that?”

Jeralt didn’t know how to respond to that kind of charge. He wondered suspiciously if this were some sort of test. He was too old for such games between past lovers, “She’s your kid.”

Rhea tapped her fingers together, and stared at the ceiling of her grand office. “Lycaon was my child, ours yes, but so very much mine. He made me understand why humans cling to their young while Nabateans don’t consider their offspring as their children. We lay eggs and they hatch in a great big communal clutch. We don’t have siblings, we have cohorts.” She shut her eyes, “I carried him in me and that was,” Rhea’s voice trailed off as tears brimmed in her eyes. “That was special. Sitri was grown in a tub, she emerged whole. She is more like a fellow Nabatean to me than my baby. We’re family, but we don’t have that kind of intimacy that comes with live birth.” Rhea’s gaze dropped down to the reports at her desk, “And besides, she probably only has a year left if she’s lucky. I’d rather see her spend it happy than anything else.”

Sitri was a person living on borrowed time and Jeralt had more than he knew what to do with. He resolved to send her out right beginning with the best first time in the long storied history of first times.

After the deed was done, Sitri lounged in his bed with her hands behind her head and her green armpit hair out for anyone to see. “So that was sex,” she declared. “Huh, well I guess you have to marry me now that you’ve deflowered me.”

“Prove it,” challenged Jeralt as he showed her how she could rest against him instead of taking up far more than half the bed.

Sitri giggled as she rolled to her side and planted a slim finger into his chest, “Alfy would fight you for my honor.”

“He already tried,” said Jeralt softly. That had been a hard talk with some harsh truths. In the end Aelfric understood that no matter how powerful his love was, Sitri was probably going to fade away with next year’s snow melt. It was best to trust her in the experienced hands she actually wanted to be in.

“I’ve done marriage, twice now,” he licked at his teeth and thought about his first wife and the hurt he’d caused her when he took his second, Seiros. He’d been bad at polyamory, and had been more like a perpetual monogamist holding on to whomever was nearest. “For you, I’d consider it.”

Sitri made a face of mock disbelief. “Considering? Come on, I have a long line of one suitor. You won’t want to miss this because once I’m gone, I’m never coming back.” He wasn’t sure if she’d started coughing as a joke, but by the end she was sputtering blood and any humor had fled the room.

Jeralt held her against him like a shaking leaf stopped by a solid wall. “Good argument,” he whispered as for the first time in what felt like a millennium he let himself stay still long enough to fall asleep next to another person.

Sitri was wasting away until she wasn’t. A child in the mix made things complicated to say the least. “I didn’t even think I could get pregnant,” admitted Sitri in a whisper as they sat outside Rhea’s office as if they were students in trouble with the headmaster. “I never cycled, I always assume she left those parts out—”

Rhea opened her door and stared at the barely protruding belly of her creation, “How?”

“The old fashion way?” suggested Sitri as she framed her womb with her hands for emphasis. _With passion and love_.

In her office, Rhea rubbed at her forehead in sadness and frustration, “Sitri, your coughing fits are getting worse and I fear this will just exacerbate things the further along you get. I am not sure you will survive to even bring this child to term.”

Sitri looked at Rhea, not like a nabatean to a fellow child of the goddess, but as a daughter to her mother, “So what, I’m not even allowed to try and have my baby because it might kill me? You’re losing me no matter what.”

“Your baby won’t have you either,” whispered Rhea as she stared at her daughter with great remorse.

It was the first time Jeralt had really seen Sitri truly upset. She was strong and a realist but this seemed to break her. She squeezed his hand like it was the one thing that could keep her from collapsing. Jeralt cleared his throat, “Yeah but they’ll _always_ have me.” The way Sitri looked up at him told him all he needed to know. He’d give fatherhood one more shot; he wasn’t going anywhere fast.

On her surface Sitri was all smiles and lullabies sung for a growing belly. “What do you think of Byleth as a name?” she asked as she stirred some milk into her tea.

Jeralt paused sharpening his daggers to cock his head in confusion, “Is that for a boy or a girl?”

“Neither and both, I just made it up and I make the rules,” announced Sitri with a laugh and a tender touch of what was surely now the baby named Byleth getting bigger every day inside her.

Yet there was a darkness and despair growing up inside her too. Their little Byleth never moved. As Sitri’s womb got bigger, the space for her lungs got smaller. By Horsebow Moon she could barely breathe. Then there was the book incident, their last ever argument on this planet.

She had the dark text disguised with the _Encyclopedia of Fodlan Insects_ dust jacket, but Jeralt knew those bastards’ symbols anywhere. Sitri was incensed that he was even asking questions, “Don’t go through my books. It’s none of your business.”

Jeralt had caught her making something in their kitchen, some kind of potion, although knowing the Agarthans it had to be a poison. He flipped to the drawings of cadavers in the book’s pages, “What are you even doing with this?” This kind of magic was so dangerous it made him sick.

Sitri snatched the book back in a fury, “How do you think she learned to make me?” Sitri took as deep a breaths as she could manage while Jeralt realized the truth. How had Rhea learned this twisted magic if not lifting it from the very people she despised most? Sitri was sobbing as she touched her side, trying to form any connection to the deathly still thing within her, “I’m just trying to survive long enough to see them into this world, that’s all I’m trying.” She held up the steaming potion watching him for approval.

Fool that he was, he let her take the questionable brew. Her labor started that night and by the morning, Sitri was gone and he had a little silent baby with a massive scar down his pale chest. “Byleth, she wanted to name you Byleth,” whispered Jeralt as he stared down at Sitri’s attempt to live on after her body gave up.

He didn’t have to ask that Sitri wanted this. If her little Byleth could even get twenty extra seconds of life from her sacrifice, Sitri would have done it. Jeralt looked down at his son and hoped he could live up to loving Byleth as fiercely as his mother had.

Sitri lay split open on the operating table. It wasn’t just her belly that’d been cut. The chasm opened all the way up to her neck. He could see an indentation around her lungs where the accursed crest stone had been crushing them. No wonder she could never breathe. Now that wretched stone sat in his son’s chest.

Rhea had said that she was done with experimenting, but clearly she was not content to let nature take its course. Jeralt found himself utterly indifferent to her despair as took in the sight her weeping over Sitri’s open thorax, “She was singing in the end.” Rhea’s eyes traced up, wide and watery, towards Jeralt, “She was singing my mother’s favorite song, I don’t even know how she knew it.” Rhea’s stare fell to the baby in his arms in a way that made his bones itch and his skin crawl. “I wonder,” said Rhea as her voice trailed off and her eyes stayed primed upon this very unexpected development in her centuries of failed experiments.

*

Byleth was quiet as his hand ran along his chest, feeling the faded scar beneath his sweater. “Thanks mom,” he whispered to the sky. The vision had been far more than he’d bargained for, but he would not trade that rare look at his mother for anything. His parents had been happy together, and for that he’d be ever grateful. He hoped they were together now.

The crest stone had been a piece of Sitri, but a borrowed one. Shamefully his thoughts began to circle around to the Sword of the Creator. The stone belonged with it, completed it, and the weapon haunted Byleth’s thoughts. He had an unshakable sense that the relic wished to be complete once more. Whether Seteth approved of the idea or not, Byleth resolved to go get it back. That meant he’d have to confront Rhea eventually.

“And your destiny,” said Sothis in a voice reserved for his ears alone.

***

When Mercedes was told she was going to have a visitor she expected to see her adoptive father, not the Archbishop. Mercedes bowed her head in shock towards Rhea and hoped that was the proper kind of greeting since she could not get out of bed. Mercedes white knuckle gripped her blanket and wished she was in something finer than her nightgown.

Rhea looked perfectly resplendent wearing a dress of the richest Faerghus blue and a golden diadem. Its pearls and diamonds caught the light and made her look like a vision of the goddess coming down from the heavens as she took a seat beside Mercedes. Rhea’s hands were soft and warm as they tucked Mercedes’ hair behind her ear, “Sweet child, welcome home.”

Mercedes suppressed a panicked memory of the Immaculate One that surfaced in her mind as Rhea’s fingers brushed her skin. “Thank you Archbishop,” said Mercedes in a rush. It was difficult to reconcile this radiant woman before her with the dragon form Mercedes had seen raging in the thick of battle.

Rhea smiled and folded her hands into her lap as she looked Mercedes over. Mercedes had caught an unfortunate sight of her reflection; she knew the bags beneath her eyes were almost purple and she looked hollowed out and hungry. The scabs on her knuckles weren’t responding well to healing spells and all her veins looked far darker than they should. Saying she looked like a corpse was putting it kindly. Yet Rhea showed no disgust or shock, “When I heard you had been returned to us, I wanted to come see how you were doing. You were always such an exemplary student.”

If she was being perfectly honest, Mercedes had no clue Rhea had any notion of who she was. The officer’s academy was small but Mercedes was a commoner, and she had never felt exceptionally outstanding in a class populated with royalty and important heirs. Rhea reached out to lift one of Mercedes’ hands for inspection. Her appraisal was as gentle as if she were handling some sacred artifact, “The Empire’s cruelty knows no bounds.”

Mercedes thought of gossiping in the infirmary with Linhardt and Manuela, stealing desserts to enjoy with Bernadetta, and lounging in Hubert’s lap as she paged through forbidden texts. “It wasn’t all bad,” whispered Mercedes as she watched the Archbishop for a reaction.

Rhea’s face remained calm and neutral, “You do not have to pretend with me. I understand what it’s like to have to do terrible things to survive Mercedes.” She was fiddling with a ring upon her finger and Mercedes could not help but note the placement. It was undoubtedly a wedding ring, but it looked far too new to have been gifted by Emperor Wilhelm the first of Adrestia.

Rhea noted Mercedes staring and ceased her playing with the ring. She smoothed her dress over her lap and smiled in a way that felt forced. “I suppose the news probably has yet to reach Garreg Mach, good.” Her eyes grew cold. “Duke Blaiddyd and I have recently come to agreeable terms for us both and joined our hands in marriage.” Even if her smile appeared strained, Rhea’s voice was filled with fire, “Faerghus will soon be joining the war on the side of the Goddess.”

The announcement rolled over Mercedes like a crashing wave. “Congratulations,” said Mercedes. She was not certain what honorific to use: highness, majesty, eminence? “That is wonderful news Archbishop.”

Rhea nodded in approval. “I am hopeful the Goddess will bless our union soon with an heir.” Mercedes wondered what that meant for the actual heir still lost in the woods somewhere. She hoped that was not a sign that Dimitri’s uncle had given up hope on him.

The archbishop gave a small hand signal and a couple of nuns rushed to set up a proper tea time in Mercedes’ little corner of the infirmary. Some curtains were drawn to afford the illusion of privacy.

Angelica blend vapors wafted up to Mercedes’ nose as she held the tea cup with both hands. Rhea’s focus was on Mercedes’ scars. “You lasted with those people for an entire year, you are very strong.”

“I found things to keep myself going,” said Mercedes as she wondered if this was a social call or an interrogation.

“I just want to make sure you know you are forgiven for _anything_ ,” said Rhea. “The Goddess is always watching, and she understands sometimes things that look like sins are done for her. She forgives such measures.” Her eyes settled on Mercedes with a weight of sadness and understanding inside them. “Sometimes we need to hear that in order to then forgive ourselves. I do not wish to see you suffering any more than you already have.”

Mercedes sipped her tea and tried not to think about Emile and all her guilt about how things had gone. She did not wish to become her mother, consumed by grief, but she worried it was something she’d inherited.

Rhea’s lips formed a grievous line, “Ingrid has told me the details of your escape and the circumstances surrounding it.”

“Can her relic be fixed?” asked Mercedes in desperation for a change in topic.

“No, I am afraid not. We have interred Luin in the crypt to let it finally rest,” said Rhea. “Your family relic is down there for safe keeping for now as well. I would love to hear how you came into possession of it.” Rhea’s eyes betrayed something strange and sinister within them that Mercedes dared not try to lure out.

 _Keep it_. Mercedes did not wish to interact with the Rafail Gem. She remembered reading the texts questioning what Relics really were and Mercedes had a feeling they were nothing divine. Retrieving it had nearly killed Caspar, and Mercedes did not feel she could use it in good conscious even if it did not remind her of her brother.

Rhea placed a gentle hand upon Mercedes’ knee beneath the blankets. “Ingrid said that you were released by,” Rhea paused as if unable to finish the sentence. The slightest hint of disgust had made its way into her eyes, “By a high ranking Adrestian. She said he appeared to have taken an unseemly interest in you.”

Mercedes shut her eyes as she thought about her fragmented memories of Hubert getting her out of the infirmary. She mostly remembered reaching for him as Ingrid spurred the pegasus up into the air. He could have hidden her anywhere, but he chose to send her home. “I wouldn’t call it unseemly,” said Mercedes as she wished she could warp away from this conversations.

“It’s alright Mercedes, it is not your fault,” said Rhea. “Whatever he did to you, it does not diminish your goodness in the Goddess’ eyes.”

Mercedes drank her tea to avoid speaking. That explained the precautionary silphium, and how terribly nervous the nuns seemed while handling her as if any little thing might set her off. She wondered what rumors were already spreading about her. Somehow she did not think Rhea would be extolling her virtues if she knew how much Mercedes enjoyed tying Hubert up and teasing his cock with magic spells. She wondered if Sothis actually saw such acts and had any thoughts about them.

“Thank you, Archbishop,” said Mercedes finally. “You’ve given me much to pray about.”

Rhea smiled and stood. She went over to Mercedes’ window and adjusted a small vase of white flowers on the sill. At this time of year so little grew in Faerghus other than those simple snowdrops. “Take your time to recover. When you are feeling restored, I hope you will consider joining the Knights of Seiros.” Rhea paused and glanced at the gap in the curtains, “Ah it appears your next visitor has arrived. Consider my words Mercedes, I am sure we will speak again soon enough.”

Mercedes let out a small sigh of relief after the Archbishop took her leave. Her next visitor was who she’d been expecting. Michel, in his dark and well mended clothes, looked totally out of place in the stark white infirmary.

“Mercedes, oh Goddess, what did they do to you?” demanded Michel as he released her from a hug.

Mercedes tried to smile but suspected it was more of a grimace. She didn’t want to tell him she’d been trying to give her brother all her blood; somehow she didn’t think anyone would understand that. Instead she focused on his gray tie, “Is that one I made for you?”

Michel pulled at it and nodded, “I thought you might like to see it, although that seems silly now.”

“No, I like that you still wear it,” said Mercedes with a smile. It was something small and familiar, and from a better time. “You should have seen the dress I made for myself. It was the grandest thing I’ve ever sewn.” Mercedes doubted very much she’d ever see her frilly frock again.

Michel was staring at her dark veins as he held her hand. “Don’t worry, when you’re well enough to come home you can take as much time and fabric as you need.” Mercedes supposed she no longer had any clothes. She’d taken everything with her to Garreg Mach and she highly doubted she’d see any of those things again.

“And mother, is she well?” Mercedes was slightly hurt Sabina was not here to see her, although she knew her mother had stopped leaving the house years ago.

Michel’s silence said everything she needed to know. Mercedes felt her throat grow tight as she confirmed what she feared, “Did, did she pass?”

Michel shut his eyes, “She got very ill. I brought her here, but there wasn’t much that could be done.” His eyes opened to meet with hers as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “They made her comfortable. They said it was her blood, but I think it was her broken heart that never really healed.”

Mercedes felt a heavy weight settling on her chest as she wished she could have been home with her mother in the end. She doubted she could have done much but it would have been nice to see Sabina one last time. Mercedes brushed her tears away as she took a few deep breaths.

Michel took her hand and squeezed it. “I didn’t know how to get a letter to you, and I didn’t want to have to give you bad news when you were facing so much as it was,” said Michel, his voice dotted with soft notes of apology. “She’s buried here. When you’re well enough to walk we’ll go see her together.”

Her nose was growing runny as Mercedes tried to find her voice, “I hate that she had to die thinking I was in danger.” That hurt her more than she could articulate.

“She didn’t,” said Michel softly. Guilt was splashed across his face. “When you didn’t come home after the battle, I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth that you were captured by those people. Her head didn’t need to be filled with the fears of what they were be doing to you,” whispered Michel. Mercedes didn’t want to ask him what he imagined she had faced. “I don’t know if this was a kindness to her or a sin, but I lied. I told that you’d graduated and become a proper gremory. I said you were made an officer in the church’s army and that’s why you didn’t return to Fhirdiad.” Michel took a deep breath, “I think that put her at ease, knowing you were strong and brave, and gave her a peace she didn’t have before. She was always, always worried for you Mercedes.”

Mercedes had often felt her mother was paralyzed by the fear of losing her. Mercedes recalled being a teenager with her mother fretting over her when she’d go to leave for school in the mornings, and finding it embarrassing when Sabina would hug her so tight when she returned in the afternoon. She remembered being resentful when friends asked her to hang about the market, and Sabina would always say no and giving her extra chores to occupy all her time. Mercedes recalled her mother in the church, pleading with the Goddess to keep Mercedes safe, and Mercedes promising she would become strong enough to keep herself safe.

Her mother had died thinking Mercedes was a capable battle mage. That was much better than thinking she was a prisoner being raped and tortured. Mercedes let out a sob as she thought about everyone else believing that when they looked at her. A dark little voice in the recesses of her heart whispered, _Just like you to feel sorry for yourself in a moment like this_.

That voice. The one that spoke to her when she lost control of that dark magic spell on Hubert. The one she was sure spoke freely to Emile, and maybe even their mother. The voice let out a light laugh for her ears alone. _Sabina wouldn’t have had to leave Emile if you just weren’t around. They would have been happy, alive. Now they’re dead, because of you_.

Mercedes’ vision blurred with tears. She was vaguely aware of Michel holding her hand and speaking to her. “Mercedes, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to upset you—”

Her cries prompted a nun to come investigate what the problem was. Soon Mercedes found herself taking a sleeping potion. Michel’s voice was muffled as he promised he’d be back to see her tomorrow. For now, Mercedes let the darkness of a dreamless sleep take her away.


	42. Sapere aude Agartha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert goes to Shambhala.

Having buried his dead, there were merely a few loose ends for Hubert to tie up at Garreg Mach before moving on. The first was Dedue. “As Ferdinand might have explained, we tried for an exchange of prisoners prior to the battle, but they refused you,” said Hubert as he watched the Blue Lions’ most serious member. Yuri stood near the door of the infirmary studying them, and Hubert was acutely aware of Manuela and Linhardt straining to eavesdrop from the back room.

By now the rumors that Dimitri had fought to retake the monastery had to have reached Dedue’s ears. Hubert sincerely hoped the retainer took it personally that his prince did not fight harder to reclaim him. However Dedue merely looked down at his hands folded in his lap with a resigned expression, “That would have been a bad trade.”

Hubert said nothing because it would have meant everything to him. Now he was stuck with a prisoner he had little hope of trading anytime soon. “I do not trust you to conscript you to fight. I have little doubt you would cleave me in two on the battlefield,” said Hubert. “After you are finished recovering you will stay here at Garreg Mach.”

“So I will just sit in a dungeon for the rest of my days?” asked Dedue.

“If you so wish,” said Hubert with indifference. “But I was thinking you might find the greenhouse nicer.”

“I do not understand,” said Dedue as his mistrustful eyes narrowed in on Hubert.

“When Dimitri unleashed hell on this place back in Wyvern Moon, the staff of the greenhouse all perished. We have been riding on the last harvest, but it will soon run out. Your knowledge of the plants would be of great use in that respect to the villagers,” explained Hubert. “Unless you would prefer for them to starve.” Dedue had spent the battle around the children and elderly of the Abyss, and Hubert hoped their faces were haunting the retainer now. “Bernadetta will also be staying behind to help with the project.”

“You know what I meant. Why not keep me imprisoned?” Dedue, for having nowhere to be, sure seemed like his time was being wasted.

“As you said, you would be a bad trade. The thing about keeping prisoners for exchange is that it is expensive. You need to feed them, pay for guards, and keep the conditions good so that they do not perish. Now if I could ransom you, I would recoup those losses,” said Hubert. “However, since that does not seem to be a viable option, I would like to present you with a compromise.” It was much like what he’d offered Mercedes almost a year before. “In exchange for your expertise you would be free to roam the monastery. You might even find a place for yourself here.”

Dedue merely returned to him a hardened stare. “You took my place, my family, my home, from me long ago. I do not think I will find a new one among anyone who supports you.”

Hubert would not deny TWSITD’s apparent role in the Tragedy at Duscar even if he only had mere pieces of the full story. He no longer bristled at being lumped in with them, because he would soon be diving into the depths of their very organization. Instead he leaned into the darkness and let voice grow icy, “Dedue, if this war goes the way I wish, there will be no one left to trade you back to, so I suggest you consider the offer.” He glanced over his shoulder at Yuri to see if the lord of the Abyss had anything to add. LeClerc had already informed Hubert he thought this plan was foolish. Hubert turned back to Dedue, “Yuri will keep an eye on you. If you should try to run, you might get away. However if his men bring you back, then a cell will be prepared for you.”

“I would like to see his men try to bring me back,” said Dedue as he looked at Yuri. “Why even take the risk of me escaping?”

Perhaps better than anyone else, Hubert understood the sort of fierce loyalty Dedue felt towards Dimitri and the lengths he might go to in order to be reunited. If Dedue did escape through any of these wide openings Hubert was providing, he seemed like the kind of person who at least share an honest account of what he’d experienced. Therefore it was important to ensure he was well treated because it could be the difference between an execution or imprisonment for an Adrestian later.

Although it also couldn’t hurt to try to exploit any bad feelings Dedue might hold towards Faerghus. “If you think a man of Duscar can wander all the way to Fhirdiad without trouble, then you are welcomed to try. Perhaps you might even send me a letter when you arrive to let me know you got there safely.” Hubert got up and excused himself, not bothering with any more sarcastic goodbyes. He’d said his peace, and now he just had to wait to see what Dedue would do with his options. Besides, Hubert was running late for his next engagement.

“Am I doing the right thing Hubert?” asked Edelgard as she stared at Dorothea waiting in a carriage near the entrance of Garreg Mach. They were heading to Enbarr for the funeral of Edelgard’s father and to aid in the rebuilding instead of going directly to the front. Edelgard was dressed in black, with a veil obscuring her face and crown. More than anything it hid away her transformation.

“Of course you are your majesty,” said Hubert.

“I fear our soldiers will lose morale without me there with them,” said Edelgard as she examined her gloves. She was terrified of being found out, and they had done all they could to help to prevent that from happening. Servants were reassigned, clothes were sent for altering, and schedules had been changed. Hubert had to argue for hours with her to bring Dorothea along to Enbarr as a companion. Edelgard needed someone with her if he could not be.

“No one would ask the Emperor to skip her father’s funeral,” said Hubert. “Take your time to mourn. When your crown and regalia are finished being altered, you will return to the front.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, “The Alliance will crumble in your wake.”

Edelgard nodded and then turned and wrapped her arms around him. They were not in the habit of hugging and it showed in their stiff movements against each other. “Be careful, Arundel and his people are far more dangerous than you think.”

Hubert hoped she would not worry on his behalf. She had more than enough on her plate. “I know my lady,” whispered Hubert.

Edelgard pulled back and shook her head, “No, you don’t, not yet.” Behind her veil he could just make out her eyes; she was looking at him like he was already dead. She had tried to dissuade him off this path, but he was taking it to fix her. He had no choice but for this to work.

As Edelgard rode off to Enbarr, Hubert would be like a shadow to Arundel. They were traveling to the heart of it all and Hubert had little idea of what to expect. Hubert had packed minimally for this trip, his uniform and a spare, toiletries, pens, ink, a journal, and as much coffee as he could fill into the rest of his bag. In his pocket, the goddess figure and broken toy pegasus wing sat like dangerous secrets he could not bear to part with. Anything else personal he dared not bring.

He watched the remnants of his battalion loading onto a wagon while another carried the bones of the ten elites and Jeritza’s barely cold corpse. A massive vat of blood that Hubert assumed was Mercedes’ was carefully packed away.

The inside of the carriage he would ride in with Arundel was befitting of a saint. The insides were cream and gold and Hubert felt far out of place in his usual black uniform. He did, however, take the slightest satisfaction imagining how Rhea would react if she saw him sitting there. Arundel took his time getting in and getting comfortable.

“How far of a ride shall I look forward to, my lord?” asked Hubert. He’d take anything to help him figure out a location of Arundel’s base.

The Regent looked at him with a small and unsettling smile. “I appreciate your enthusiasm Vestra, but you will need to earn my trust before I will answer such questions.” Arundel paused and reached into the folds of his robes. He produced a black length of silk ribbon, not unlike Mercedes had worn once in her hair for Hubert. “If you are going to come on this journey, you must do so blind.”

“Of course,” said Hubert as he accepted the ribbon and reluctantly tied over his eyes. He focused on listening to the sounds of the carriage wheels and Arundel’s breathing. He wondered how long he was going to have to sit like this. Arundel had given him precious little information about where they were going or what they would be doing.

As they got onto the bumpy road beyond Garreg Mach, Hubert felt an icy rush course through him as the carriage was warped. There went his plan to track the distance and direction of travel. Perhaps this would be a very short trip after all.

The carriage landed with a rattling shake as if whoever had cast the spell had slightly miscalculated on their trajectory. The wheels groaned and the horses seemed distressed. The carriage did not budge.

Arundel sighed with disgust, “Your engineers are incompetent. They’ve landed us _in_ the ground instead of atop it.”

“My lord, have we warped all the way to your base?” Hubert was learning to dance in-between sounding curious and avoiding coming off as an idiot. He suspected Arundel did not have a high opinion of him and he did not wish to be seen as being as worthless as his battalion.

“Shambhala, that’s its name,” said Arundel. “It requires two warps to go the total distance, hence our little stop.” Outside the carriage Hubert could hear the mages trying to fix the situation. The horses were incredibly loud in their struggle and their hooves were likely deep in the dirt. There was a crackling of magic and suddenly the sounds outside the carriage grew muffled.

“While we wait, let us play a little game.” There was a hint of satisfaction growing in Arundel’s voice as he made small talk. “Tell me Vestra, how do you feel about the dark?”

“It does not bother me, my lord,” said Hubert. Hubert had left his fear of the dark in childhood and fully embraced the shadows.

“That is fortunate, for there are places in Shambhala where you will not be able to see at all,” said Arundel. Hubert could hear the regent exhale with a little extra sound as if he were muling something over, “If not the dark, what are you afraid of?”

Hubert’s fears were of Edelgard dying, and falling from a high place. That about summed it up. Those were both problems he could not fix with magic. He did not think it wise to share such information with Arundel. “I am afraid of very large dogs,” said Hubert as he envisioned the kind that could tear a throat out. It seemed reasonable, although if Hubert was set upon by one he’d not hesitate with a spell to neutralize the threat.

Hubert let out a small, surprised yelp as he felt a sting on his hands from a dark magic spell. Arundel’s tone had grown annoyed. “I asked you what you’re afraid of,” said Arundel. Hubert felt another sting at his neck, almost like a wasp. This time he managed to keep his mouth shut before embarrassing himself further with any sign of pain. Arundel repeated his question, “Your fears Vestra, I simply need one and do not waste any more of my time with fake answers.”

Hubert felt a small nip at his ear, then one on his chest. Each successive bite was getting more and more painful. “I am afraid of deep water.” That was one of Edelgard’s fears, of the ocean specifically. The bites ceased but Hubert now felt a growing pressure on his head and so he stayed very still.

“I do not think that is true,” said Arundel with a hint of warning in his voice. “Just one fear, it’s a compliment, really, that I cannot figure it out so easily. You hide things better than an average surface dweller.”

The pressure kept increasing to the point Hubert wondered if his head was just going to be crushed. “Dying by fire,” said Hubert as the pressure finally released. The memory of his grandmother’s body tied up in the smoke filled tent she’d died in intruded into his mind’s eye.

Arundel just hummed as Hubert found his boots growing uncomfortably warm to the point where it felt like flames were licking at him. It seemed like every capillary in his body was opening up and Hubert found himself beginning to sweat. Arundel’s magic kept getting hotter until Hubert finally relented for fear of incurring actual bodily harm, “I do not like heights.”

The burning feeling ceased and Arundel let out a disappointed sigh, “Heights? How banal.” He seemed suddenly bored with his game, much to Hubert’s relief.

Hubert shut his eyes behind his blindfold and relaxed against the cushions of the carriage. Clearly he was not fooling Arundel of anything, and that did not bode well for his ability to keep his true intentions hidden. He thought he was good at lying, but apparently not.

Arundel continued speaking, “I have a theory for why you’re afraid of heights.”

“Oh?” Hubert indulged the conversation if only to endear himself to the regent to make up for the small lies.

“You are a bastard are you not?” There was the slightest edge to how Arundel said it, like he wished for it to hurt.

Hubert allowed his nostrils to flare as if the insult had landed. It was not exactly hidden information, but it was rarely brought up. As a young boy he’d been mocked on occasion for it by other children, but for all intents and purposes he was a Vestra, nothing more, nothing less. “I was legitimized back in 1161,” said Hubert.

“But your mother, she was a commoner?” verified Arundel. Hubert got the distinct sense Arundel knew everything important about him.

“She was. I cannot say I know anything else about her,” said Hubert, this time being perfectly honest. His mind tried not to wander to the woman who had mistaken him for her son when he was running away as a boy after the Insurrection. He should have stopped and asked her why she thought that, why he looked so much like her actual son, but he’d been on a mission to save Edelgard. Nothing else had mattered then, and nothing else mattered now.

“Well, I have heard that when commoners birth the bastards of noblemen, they check them for crests,” said Arundel, the words rolling of his tongue with ease. “Do you know how commoners check for crests?”

Hubert only knew of crest detecting machines like that belonging to Hanneman. There were very few of those in existence, perhaps only the one, and mostly crests were noted when they triggered accidentally. Children might go for years without one being noticed, while some were clearly observed in infancy. Hubert swallowed with discomfort as he mentally prepared for whatever Arundel was about to say. He knew it would not be pleasant, “No, how do they check for crests?”

“They drop the babies,” said Arundel with a touch of enjoyment in his voice. Hubert could feel his ears growing hot as he tried to keep his face as unaffected as possible. Arundel hummed with a condescending tenor, “Yes, they drop them from increasingly high spots hoping to trigger a reaction. It’s barbaric really, but I have heard it is considered a socially acceptable means of ridding themselves of such burdens. If the baby has a crest, they will be saved and sold, and if not, well, there’s only so high a spot you can release a baby from before you do not need to drop it any more.” He snorted and sighed, “Perhaps you are afraid of heights because of this practice.”

Hubert suppressed his memories of his grandfather’s blunt initial assessment of him recorded in Bertram’s journal. Hubert had looked poorly when taken in, but he got the impression he was just malnourished and not smashed upon the ground. Arundel’s voice shifted as if he was now facing the window of the carriage, “Surface vermin and their practices surrounding crests disgust me. In Shambhala, we do not let that poison in our veins. We have much more elegant ways of harnessing such power.” Hubert thought of Mercedes being bled dry in the infirmary, and failed to see the alleged sophistication.

Arundel was now cracking his neck in the most loud and disgusting manner, “How do you deal with small spaces?”

“I suppose that is contingent on how small,” said Hubert, his voice having grown drier than he intended. His tongue had never been good at stopping while he was ahead. “Why? Do you have another anecdote about techniques used for discovering crests?” Against his will, a memory of his father locking him in a dark closet as a punishment was pushing the front of Hubert’s mind.

“No, Shambhala has quite tight accommodations, just so you are aware,” said Arundel. He groaned at the sudden interruption of a dark mage knocking on the carriage door. “It seems we must get out, typical.” Arundel paused his talking, and touched Hubert’s knee. As he did so a horrid sensation coursed up Hubert’s legs and then into his spine. His head felt for a moment like it was in a clamp and his ears rang. Then the feeling faded as quickly as it happened. Arundel cleared his throat, “You may take off the blindfold now.”

Hubert complied and found his view was of _nothing_. Hubert stayed silent because he had no idea what to say. Arundel was chuckling at Hubert’s predicament, “I realize this does not feel like much of a gift, but I assure you I am making things easier upon you. When you are underground you cannot rely on your eyes. I will give your sight back when you have shown me you are capable of succeeding without it.” Arundel’s voice lowered to a whisper, “I imagine you have probably never realized that I was born blind.”

Hubert managed to find his own voice finally, “I did not know that my lord.”

“When I wear another’s skin, I take on their senses,” continued Arundel. “Up in the light I have learned you all rely too much on your eyes. You act like losing them is the end of the world when in reality they can be easily deceived. In Shambhala you will come to learn the vast power there is in the darkness for those who know how to move in it without fear.”

Hubert’s world revolved around observation. His eyes were everything to him. Now in an instant his world had been flipped inside out. “T-thank you Lord Arundel,” said Hubert as he tried not to let the growing panic in his chest escape.

“From now on Vestra, you will call me Thales when we are underground,” said the regent. Hubert nodded in silence.

Hubert was slow in following Thales from the carriage. He found himself grasping onto anything solid he could get a hand on. He knew his eyes were open but everything was just vague colors and brightness from his vantage point. Hubert’s ears attuned to the sounds beyond the carriage and heard very little. They were certainly not in a fort or city. It appeared they were just on an empty road.

Thales was disgruntled by the progress of the mages, “Have you considered just warping everything up by a foot?”

“That might injure the horses even more, sir,” said a tittering dark mage. That was the nervous one Hubert often observed in the infirmary running Thales’ machines. He noted no one else called Thales ‘lord’, it was always sir. Hubert would do the same from now on.

Hubert stood as still as he could, trying to listen and stay out of the way. Thales was directing his mages to get Jeritza to Shambhala as quickly as possible before he rotted too much. Hubert heard the distinct snap of warp as they went on ahead. Someone put their hand upon his shoulder and Hubert flinched away from the sudden touch. “Sorry General Vesta,” said one of his battalion mages. It was the weirdly cheerful one. “Why don’t you come wait by the wagon? I know losing your vision might be a shock, but if I could do it, I’m sure you can.”

“This is normal?” asked Hubert as he adjusted to walking without being able to look where he was going. He cautiously held his hands out in an attempt to avoid bumping anything. The mage took it as an invitation to link arms with him.

“Oh it’s the standard initiation,” babbled on the mage as he led Hubert along. “When you agree to join up with the Agarthans, they take your sight. You’re lucky, really, since we’re warping most of the way. My brother and I had to be blind for a month long journey by cart up here on the surface.”

“Is your brother also in the battalion?” asked Hubert as he tried to remember how many mages were left from after the cull in the sealed forest.

“Oh, no, he died, during our training,” said the mage in a more somber tone. “Long before the war.” The pep returned to his voice, “Anyway, I didn’t get my sight back for, oh, a year? That’s how long my training felt anyway. But in the dark it doesn’t make much of a difference. I doubt they’ll keep yours that long, you’re great at magic.”

The very idea of a year of voluntary blindness gnawed at Hubert’s core. The whole reason he was embarking on this journey was to spy, and if didn’t have his sight he was not sure how he well was going to accomplish that. Hubert tried to focus on something else, “Remind me of your name again?”

The mage was quiet and Hubert wished he could see the man’s expression to understand if he’d said something off. “My name is Magnus. My friends call me Mags.”

“And where are you from Magnus?” asked Hubert.

“Oh um, far northwest in Adrestia. Near the Brionac plateau if you can believe anyone lives all the way up there,” said Magnus with a weak chuckle.

At least Hubert now knew the northern reach of Adrestia was over a month by cart to Shambhala. That was twice the time it took to travel by horse between Garreg Mach and Enbarr. That meant that if they were still in Fodlan, they had to be going towards its edge, perhaps near the tips of Alymra or the reaches of Sreng. It was certainly not as cold as Hubert expected Sreng to be, but he supposed they were only halfway there. Hubert leaned against the wagon trying to figure out where its front was, and subtly turned until he could feel the sun on his face. Based on the time of day he could glean they seemed to be facing southeast. He had to hope that was the right direction towards the base.

The horses produced out an awful sound before Hubert heard a vicious wet sound of dark magic. The horses became totally silent. Magnus let out a disappointed sigh, “Well I suppose that is one way of solving that problem. You don’t really need horses underground though I guess. A pity all the same.”

Hubert looked up towards the sky but only saw an overwhelming brightness that did not help his nerves. “So how did you come to join the Agarthans?”

“My parents died when my brother and I were young,” said Magnus with hint of reluctance. “Things were hard with them gone, and the Agarthans offered us a place, a home.” He almost sounded positive.

Hubert wrapped his arms around himself to try and keep calm and grounded. “So what is Shambhala like, what do I have to look forward to?” He paused as he realized look was not the right word. Edelgard had tried to warn him not to underestimate Arundel, and now he was really stuck. He would not get far if he tried to run now.

“Well, I don’t know what it looks like on the surface,” said Magnus. “We always warp in and out. But inside it’s huge and dark and, well, it’s not like anywhere else in Fodlan I can promise you that.” Hubert hung on those words, _in Fodlan_. Magnus sucked in a sharp breath, “I should get you back to your carriage, it looks like we’re ready to move again.”

Inside the carriage, Hubert could sense how vexed Thales’ breathing had become. “We will be warping shortly into the heart of Shambhala. There you will join the current group of trainee dark mages in our Alpha class.” He paused and sneered, “You might even liken it to Rhea’s Officer’s Academy. It is where we shape the best of the best.”

Hubert nodded but said nothing. Thales’ foot tapped against the carriage floor, “You are joining the class late, and you will have to work hard to catch up in time for graduation. However I believe you can succeed here if you truly desire it.” In a strange twisted way the conversation almost felt like an exchange between father and son, or a mentor and protege.

The icy twist of warp filled him once more. This time the carriage landed precisely as intended. Thales put his hand on Hubert’s shoulder and leaned in close, “Don’t disappoint me Vestra, I vouched for you personally.”

“I will do my best,” said Hubert. He allowed Thales to lead him out of the carriage and into the echoing chamber they’d arrived in. There were many people here, far more than Hubert had expected.

“Shall I follow you sir?” asked Hubert. He did his best to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. People were pushing past him in this crowded hub and Hubert got the distinct impression he was perfectly in the way.

“Someone will be here shortly to get you situated,” said Thales. He seemed distracted, “I have a Death Knight to go resurrect.” Hubert wished he could see that; he wished he could _see_.

Hubert kept his pack tight in his arms as he listened to Thales walking off. Someone much shorter than him cleared her throat and tugged at his sleeve, “If you’ll follow me please.”

There were so many voices it was hard to keep track of hers, but he swore he knew it. “Monica von Ochs?”

He was given an affirmative hum as she lead him along. As they walked the bustling sounds grew quieter and quieter until Hubert was nearly sure it was just the two of them in this hall. By the way the acoustics had changed Hubert inferred it was narrower than the place they’d come from. There was a slight slope to the floor as if they were descending. Monica’s shoes clicked against the stone floor and she was humming in a pleasant manner. Finally she cleared her throat to make conversation, “Do you remember me from when we were children?”

It took Hubert a few moments to recall the family trip to visit the Ochs back when he was perhaps eight or nine. Monica, who was only a little younger than he, had driven him to tears teasing him about how they were supposed to have been raised as siblings and asking that he be left behind so that she could have a big brother around. Afterward, Don’t make me send you to Ochs, was always a sarcastic threat thrown around by his grandparents to get him to behave. It was only now with the benefit of his grandfather’s journals that he realized she hadn’t been lying to taunt him.

Monica seemed unaware that he might know her from school as Kronya. Of all the people to run into down here, she had not been on his list. He assumed she was dead. “Yes, I remember you. How are you here?”

Monica let out a shuddering breath and then sounded like she was forcing a smile, “The last thing I remember is staying late in the library at Garreg Mach studying for my finals. Then I woke up here, perhaps a little over a year ago? I was in a great big chilly bath hooked up to all sorts of machinery. It was a shock to say the least. I thought I was dead at first to be honest.”

He wondered with the talk of the Death Knight being resurrected if she had in fact been dead. It was a lot to unpack. “And what do you do here now?”

“Hospitality I suppose,” said Monica in a slightly forlorn voice. “I get recruits settled, I make sure professors have the supplies they need. I take students to the infirmary sometimes. It could always be worse.” Her voice trailed off as the two seemed to exit the narrow hall into a much larger sounding room. “Welcome to the training barracks. Fair warning, almost everyone here is blind so expect to bump into each other often. Honestly though, if you could see you’d find there is nothing to really look at in here. This part of the compound is pitch black.”

“Can you see?” asked Hubert.

“Oh, yes, I was brought here as a prisoner, not a recruit, so I’ve actually never been without my sight,” whispered Monica. He sensed a prick of mistrust in her of him that he had come here by choice. “I use a little hand lamp powered by magic to see in here.” She cleared her throat to quell any more questions. “Your bunk number is,” she paused as if reading something, “Ah Alpha-thirty. They’ve given you a nice high up one haven’t they?”

“What do you mean?” asked Hubert. The room sounded huge.

Monica guided him towards a rough stone wall that she placed his hand upon. Monica edged his hand along the wall to an opening, “This is a bunk.” She continued to hold his hand as she pressed it along the stone once more. He could feel an engraved letter and number, _A-I_. She kept leading him over until his hand was on a ladder. “You’ll have to climb up and down to reach yours. Alpha-class is considered the most competitive one by the way, so just watch out on the ladder and keep a tight hold just in case anyone gets any ideas.” Hubert’s stomach flipped at the suggestion.

From somewhere a strange sound went off multiple times. Monica sighed, “Eighteen means dinner. You’ll need to put your personal items away. Now the ladder to the right of your column of bunks is up, and the left is down, do you understand?” He tensed as she began pushing him towards his appropriate one. “Up you go, I’ll be waiting for you down here.”

Even getting onto the ladder took a great deal of willpower. The rungs were well worn and had a slightly damp and slippery quality to them. Hubert knew he was going painfully slow but each step made him feel more and more nauseous. Somehow not being able to see made this worse. The creaking of the wood and metal with each rung ascended did not help.

When he finally reached his bunk he realized that they had stuck him in the highest one. Hubert edged into the small bunk carved into the stone. Running his hands along the walls he could feel each little pick mark where a hammer had struck the rock. The bunk was not tall enough to stand in, but he could at least sit up. As he palmed around the cold, damp stone he found a rolled up mattress and an itchy blanket. He stowed his bag and mentally prepared to descend. Hubert cautiously got out to the edge searching for the ladder and realized this was to be his personal hell.

As he reached the ground again he heard the familiar metallic snap of a pocket watch cover closing. Monica sighed, “Well that took you nearly forty minutes, I advise you to get quicker Hubert. Come, we are left with little time for dinner, and I must get you fitted in a training uniform.”

The mess hall was loud and the food unpalatable. “Dare I ask what this is?” Hubert lifted up his spoon and let whatever it was drop back into the bowl with a loud plopping noise.

“I like to pretend it’s a nice potato cheese soup,” said Monica in a cheerful voice. “It’s not though.”

Hubert decided if Monica didn’t want to tell him what the food was, perhaps he did not really want to know. It was lukewarm and vaguely reminded him of turnips, but with far too much grit like no matter what the cooks did they could not fully scrub away the soil. There was an earthy quality to it, but where butter should have been added there was just a hint of metallic aftertaste. “What color is it?”

Monica drew in a breath as he heard her spoon spinning around the slop. “Like tobacco stained teeth.” He heard her give off a surprised sound as if she had over spoken. “Don’t worry too much about it, it’s just a root vegetable paste with some, um, blood in it, for protein I suppose. Or minerals maybe, I’m not much for alchemy.”

“Alchemy?” asked Hubert.

“One of the seven sacred aptitudes of Agartha. You’ll be taking classes on them at some point I’m sure. I’ve sat in some when work gets slow,” said Monica. “Alchemy, artificing, history, mathematics, medicine, philosophy,” she paused, and her voice grew quiet but pleased, “and poetry.”

“Poetry, but no music or painting?” asked Hubert as a comfortable sarcasm crept its way back into his voice despite his ill ease. He was having trouble imagining the Agarthans producing anything beautiful.

“As I understand it, the ancient Agarthans brought only the spoken word with them down here when they lost everything else in the great flood. That’s what I’ve gleaned anyway,” said Monica. “ _Sapere aude_ I suppose.”

“What did you just say?” asked Hubert as he recalled the inscription in the book Mercedes had found in the Abyss’ library.

“It just means dare to know, it’s a common saying down here,” said Monica. “You’ll find that there are enough people from the surface to make our Fodlan language the most common tongue, but the Agarthans have their own language they use amongst themselves. I’ve picked up little bits here and there. I think it’s like a much older variant of our language that branched off and evolved down here.”

The siren went off again, and Hubert made sure to count how many times it sounded; nineteen. “Oh Hubert we must get a move on, dining time is now over.” She taught him where to put his dirty dishes and warned him there would be no variation in the meals.

The uniforms were simple in nature. “You can wear the pants and undergarments you’ve brought, and these robes just go over everything,” explained Monica as she piled his arms with them. The fabric felt softened by repeated washings. He was given a small satchel for items he’d get in class.

Monica showed him how to read the symbols on the walls to get around the facilities, and promised this would get easier on him. “Now, like I said earlier, the class you’re joining is competitive. There are 30 students, but only 15 graduate spots. The student whose bunk you’re inheriting died earlier this month—”

“Died? How?” asked Hubert, sincerely hoping it was not in a training accident.

“He rolled out of his bunk one night,” said Monica. Somehow that managed to be so much worse than what Hubert had been fearing. Monica continued, undaunted, “Since it is so competitive, you might find yourself in a fight now and then. This is perfectly allowed and even encouraged by some of the faculty. However, under no circumstances may you use magic outside of the designated training rooms. The risk of unintended fatality or damage to the compound is too great and the punishment is execution.”

“Understood,” whispered Hubert.

“You can use anything else though, and your classmates certainly will so don’t hold back. If they die, they die,” said Monica with a hardened edge to her voice as if she’d given this pep talk too many times. She let out a sigh as if relieved to finally be done giving him this morbid orientation. “I did not go through the battle training here, but I hope you can make it out, cousin Hubert,” said Monica with a small ounce of familial affection as she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “A word of advice to you, don’t make any obvious attachments here, they will only be used against you eventually.” With that she left him in the darkness to find his way back to his assigned bunk.

He lost count of how many people he bumped into on his way but eventually he found the ladder. He also found his arms full of robes and a satchel far too small to put them in. Hubert managed to get them tucked under one arm as he maneuvered up to his assigned spot.

He rifled through his toiletries. His grandfather’s folding razor now felt too dangerous to use on his face, but ideal for the fights Monica suggested were commonplace. He tucked it into a pocket just in case. He stumbled his way back down to figure out again where the bathing facilities were located. Navigating the showers and the sinks was nerve wracking but there was complex plumbing here, far more advanced than he was used to. As he bumped and slipped people picked him up and set him in the right direction. More than one said something to the effective of 'everyone is new at some point'.

When he finally got up to his little hole in the wall for the last time that night, Hubert tried to settle in. The barracks were still loud with chatter and singing and cries for everyone to _bloody shut up_. Somewhere beneath him two people were attempting to have sex in their cramped little sleep space. He could hear their moans wafting up and if he paid extra close attention, he could smell them. The whole place was ripe with body odors of too many bodies and not enough ventilation.

From the ceiling above, no matter where Hubert positioned himself, a little drip of moisture found his face as if to torture him. It was horrible here. There was no way around it and Hubert finally let himself do what he had buried for so long and mourned.

Everything suppressed bubbled up to his surface here in the dark. Edelgard was stuck in a horrible transition that might never be reversed. Mercedes had almost died. His grandmother was dead. All of it felt like his fault and Shambhala seemed like a tailored punishment for his failings.

After about three tears Hubert packed away his bad feelings and tried to turn them into motivation. His grandmother was dead, but that meant she was beyond the Agarthan’s reaches. She could not be harmed in order to manipulate him. Edelgard needed him to figure out a fix for her transformation. That was why he was here and why he needed to stay in place no matter way. All this discomfort would be worth it to see her put right. As for Mercedes, that was where his mind didn’t have a good rationalization for the pain in his heart.

She was certainly better off without him, and that cut him deeply. How had he found someone he was so perfectly imperfect for? Hubert sank his hand into his pocket and wrapped it around Mercedes’ little goddess figurine. His thumb caressed the minimal details of the figure’s face as he tried to picture her somewhere safe and good. His mind took him to Mercedes bathed in warm sunlight on a summer day. He could not help himself but to fade into sleep dreaming of the comfort of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, by the next update this fic will be ~1 year old! _dies inside a little_ What a year it has been...


End file.
